Axis and Allies Book 1 of The Carpenter Blueprints
by Thomas A
Summary: Be careful when you lie about your name. The world and all major characters are the property of Jim Butcher.
1. Chapter 1

**Axis and Allies**

Sunday

Chapter 1

The sign on the door read simply Harry Dresden, Wizard. For a business office that declaration seemed to me more than enough to explain to those seeking assistance just what types of services were available. Unfortunately, to the average citizen of Chicago the sign served more to confuse than to actually enlighten.

See when you use the term wizard, many people commonly mistake that for the term magician which brings to mind a balding, pointy-bearded man with bad jokes and a top hat filled with rabbit droppings. On the other end of the spectrum are the small group of individuals who love everything they call New Age, which for some reason includes ancient religions and mysticisms such as astrology and fortune telling, and consider wizards as one of the various groups who subscribe to their lifestyle so wish to invite us to tea to chant with them. Let me be firm in explaining that a wizard is neither of these things nor do we enjoy the comparison.

Wizards are not merely an occupation like an accountant. While there are places that purport to teach magic if you stay up late enough to catch one of their commercials on television, and then only from a distance since electronics have this tendency to fail in the presence of true practioners, none of these 'schools' that I know of accomplish more than swindle money from their clients while teaching them to meditate in order to become one with the universe. It seems obvious that many of those New Agers must have a significant amount of disposable income because of all those ready to help them dispose of it.

A wizard is perhaps a little closer to a traditional blacksmith in that to become a true master, you must start out as an apprentice and be taught the necessary skills and pass tests over time. I look upon my own apprenticeship as hardly a pleasant memory since my master seemed to delight in tormenting me at every opportunity and pointing out the smallest of errors. But that is getting a bit ahead of myself. Let me say that while the master-apprentice relationship is followed by true wizards that is about as close as a normal working profession comes to my own.

If I had to define it in simple, understandable terms I would offer that a wizard is most like a concert musician. First you must be born with an inherent talent, for without that a masterful level. Second, to be good, I mean very good, you actually do have to acquire all the practice in the world or so it seems. Did I already mention how unfair life is to give me a master who thought that practice and personal torment were synonymous? So of all the professions you are aware of a world class musician is likely the best comparison, except of course a true comparison would grant musicians the added ability to blast musicians into flaming cinders which all in all most would agree likely make concerts in the park far more interesting to the younger generation.

A wizard is a man or woman (we do not go for sexist titles much in my line of work) with the natural gift to call upon magic. Yes I could spend another ten minutes trying to explain just what I mean by 'magic' but let's just skip over that and agree that it is merely another type of energy. You probably do not handle nuclear fission on a daily basis, so put magic in the same category and we can get on with the story.

Anyway I was in the office, yes the one that said 'Harry Dresden, Wizard' on the door, cleaning the place up a bit when I noticed Mouse raise his head in warning as if someone was headed to the door. Despite his name, Mouse is a two-hundred pound lap dog wannabe that is smarter than almost all of my friends, not that I have a lot being a wizard and all. The fact that Mouse alerted is something that usually grabs my attention for the dog senses things that others cannot. I shook out my small bracelet of shield charms and turned toward the door noting that Mouse appeared focused and ready for trouble if it happened to come a callin, but for right now was content to stay right where he was. The fact that this placed him squarely between me and the door was not lost on either of us.

A shadow moved across the glass, looking like one of those old private eye movies from the black and white era of television that my father enjoyed. The movement had been too fast to make out any features and seemed to pass right on past the door without stopping. I waited a second and would have returned to my cleaning chores if Mouse's continued stare did not inform me that the visitor was not gone yet. Normally a wizard carries a blasting rod to aim at the door for insurance during just this type of situation, but I did not have such a thing handy at the moment. I would have to rely solely upon my shield bracelet and my own skills if it came down to a fight. Well my skills and a two hundred pound dog. All in all that was not a bad combination; in fact I had been in a situation or two in the not so distant past where this mix had saved me from some really bad things.

The shadow appeared outside the door once again, this time more hesitant in its movements than last time as if trying to decide its course of action. The office was not a home, so the natural protections offered by a threshold would not apply as well as it would where I lived. I saw a dark object rise up and then strike on the frame next to the glass, making the pane rattle. Three distinct knocks, neither too hard to show anger or too soft to show despair. Okay, something in between; which left by definition everything else.

I ran through my mind quickly if I had posted all the utility payments on time this month. Having the electric company show up to shut off the office power hardly proclaims 'expert consultant on all things magical' to prospective customers. On the flip side that is far more acceptable to the other businesses in the building that having the door ripped from the hinges by something that should be confined solely to nightmares. That had happened at this very door a few years ago and the repetition of this event was to be avoided if at all possible. Again, Mouse's mostly calm demeanor made me confident that this was unlikely.

I was really in one of those positions of circumstance though where there was truly no reason for me to open the door. It's not like the office of Harry Dresden, Wizard was looking for business clients at the moment. In fact, I came up with half a dozen good reasons just in those few seconds why answering the door was a bad idea entirely. Almost every one of those reasons also looked like something from out of a horror movie, or at least a bad rendition of a Twilight Saga book. I figured I could just stand here quietly and whoever was on the other side of the door would give up and go away right? Well it seemed like a good plan at the time.

Another three knocks rang out on the door, as if the individual beyond though that perhaps anyone in the twenty by twenty foot room would have failed to hear the first set. This time though it was accompanied by a voice, a female voice. "Mr. Dresden, are you there?" She asked with an obvious nervousness in her tone. "I need to talk to you." Another long pause passed as she built up her resolve for the final statement I just knew was coming. "It's a matter of life and death."

I should tell you that life and death mean different things to a wizard than it does to other people. Life to a normal person is a happy family with a spouse, two kids, and a host of pets on some nicely manicured law and friendly neighborhood. Yeah, we wizards do not really understand what you people call Life. On the other hand Death for us usually entails something from out of your deepest nightmares that yanks small yet vital parts out of your still living body and slowly devours them before your eyes. See Death to a wizard is not really something regular people spend much time thinking about. Therefore, the claim of life or death meant as much in urgency as peanut butter and jelly as a reason to open the door.

"Mr. Dresden, are you in there?" The voice asked one more time almost pleadingly. Thankfully, I was through proper genetics mostly immune to women in distress.

All was going according to plan when my 'partner' literally blew it. I am not sure what had prompted me to buy Mouse a philly cheese steak sandwich on the way over here, but his digestion track chose this moment to make its grand announcement of enjoyment from his opposite end in a noise that was half enraged city cabbie on the horn and half novice tuba player with too much lung power. I will spare you the vivid description of just what the smell reminded me of. I looked at Mouse who somewhat sheepishly looked over his shoulder at me as if to communicate "Hey, you bought me the sandwich" and said between clenched teeth so I could breath as little as possible "Traitor!"

Knowing my attempt at stealth had been blown out the window, I had to answer the door, though whether the woman outside still wanted to speak to Harry Dresden or not now was questionable. Such introductions hardly make for good first impressions. I scooted past Mouse, flipping open the window, then went to the door and opened the two locks and a chain and pulled the door toward me.

The woman on the other side was momentarily shocked by my appearance and I took this instant to get a good look at her. She was tall, taller than me even, with blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes. She wore a prim and proper gray business suit that accentuated she was a woman, without over accentuating this fact the way some would with a typical low cut blouse, high slit skirt, or five inch heels. She probably could have been a model, and I was happy not to sense anything 'other worldly' about her that might mean she was a vampire, faire, or a thousand other lovely and deadly creatures we wizards deal with regularly.

"Harry Dresden?" She said in obvious confusion. I of course could understand this confusion as I certainly look nothing like a Harry. Mom said the moment I was born that I looked like a Molly and that name has served me pretty well for the approximate two decades of my life so far. Harry Dresden was my wizard master, and apart from his constant tormenting of his faithful, obedient, and undeserving apprentice, he was a great guy. I was certainly not Harry Dresden, though I must admit my mother said since becoming his apprentice I seemed to think and speak like him more and more. Of course I think she is just nuts.

I guess I should also mention that there are many types of wizards just like there are many types of musicians and we each tend to specialize on those gifts where our strongest potential lies. For the real Harry Dresden that tends to be the confrontational magics that involved a lot of explosions, fires, and screaming. I on the other hand, being a far more enlightened and gentle soul, have been gifted with emotional related magics tied to senses and feelings. While not nearly as flashy as Harry, I have found subtly often can work just as well as brute force if one knows how and when to apply it.

Therefore, being fairly empathic by magical nature I could sense the confusion in the woman standing across from me. That confusion seemed to be slipping away into full fledged despair with every breath as the silence continued between us. I had failed to answer this woman, who I now noted was likely close to my own age though appeared more mature at first glance from her choice in wardrobe. Her hopes had seemingly been dashed by my appearance and the remaining shards of them were grinding completely away to powder with every passing second.

"I am sorry to disturb you." She said. "I was looking for the wizard Harry Dresden from the phonebook. I thought only magic might be able to help me now."

This is one of those moments where commonsense says speak the truth. Anyone who proclaims that their only hope is magic is either a nut job or in some actually serious trouble. Neither of these situations lends themselves to the rationale person jumping into with both feet. Of course, Harry probably would not think twice. Not that he would be swayed by this mysterious blonde's beauty. Oh no not my master Harry! No, he would be swayed by her appeal for help alone. I mean I might understand if his plans involved a little seduction on the side, I know my own life could certainly be enlivened by this, but not Harry. He would simply jump in the deep end without looking to help because he had been asked to. What an idiot!

And of course because Harry's last words to me before he left on some sort of secret business were "take care of the place while I'm gone" I suppose I had a moral obligation to do what I could for her. I suspect this means in the grand scheme of the universe that I am an even bigger idiot!

"I'm Harry Dresden." I said trying to offer a cool demeanor to my declaration. As I said most of my magical gifts center around emotions and senses and while it is illegal under the laws of magic for me to purposefully manipulate the mind of another through my gifts, I had learned that my abilities had a passive element to them as well that made people around me more likely to sense the emotions I was offering and accept them with less skepticism than they normally would otherwise. I had inadvertently been using this on my parents for years, which explained how I got away with some things such as sneaking out to go to concerts that should have left me busted and grounded for a year.

Now, exuding a sense of confidence that I really was not feeling I continued. "My father wanted a son and Harry sounds more believable as an investigator than Harriet when potential customers stop by looking for help." I smiled to evoke the confidence vibe to enhance my own lying ability. "Besides it saved me paying for two additional letters on my door!" I laughed and she smiled politely.

"But a woman investigator?" She said as if she had just stepped out of the 1950's.

"Hey it worked for Remington Steele." I said remembering the show from TVLand when I would come home way past curfew. She seemed confused by this reference but I opened the door wider and invitingly. "Why don't you come in Ms. …?"

"Brown." She said nodding and stepping past me and through the door. While the window was open, the few moments had hardly been enough to cover up the lingering smell and in fact only likely circulated Mouse's aroma. This caused Ms. Brown to look at me askew.

"It wasn't me it was the dog." I said with a smile without turning to point to a bare spot where Mouse had been sitting only moments ago then from her reaction looked also. Of course there was no sign of the two hundred pound beast for me to see, and more importantly neither did Ms. Brown. Not even my passive manipulations of emotions can overcome what other senses seem to indicate as a bold faced lie. I resigned myself to this and pointed her to the couch and said 'traitor' once more under my breath. This is hardly the start to a beautiful friendship I might have hoped for. "So tell me." I said sitting on the edge of the desk, looking confident in my jeans and t-shirt. "Why do you need a wizard?"

"I have to find someone immediately." She said. All in all hardly an abnormal request, though one that did not immediately cry out for the services of a wizard for hire.

"I think you need to go to the police." I said

"No." She replied. "He made me promise never to involve the police." She seemed torn on this issue like she knew the police were a good option but that her promise meant more.

"Well then a private investigator." I replied. "It's not that I am not looking for work…" Actually I wasn't but I did not want word to get around that Harry did not need customers. If anyone could use some extra money to live a little better it was certainly him. "..it's just I do not see why you think a wizard is the answer to your problems."

She bit her lip as if debating on telling me anything further and I stretched back and patiently waited. Actually, if this is all there was to being a wizard for hire I might paint my own name on the door as well. Of course I would use a more stylish letter font and probably pink to jazz it up, but hey Harry is just old school.

"Eric is in a cult… or a coven... or whatever you magicians call a group of yourselves these days." She answered then looked guilty for saying so in a condescending tone.

"First of all we call ourselves wizards." I explained. "Yes, even the women." I cut off her obvious question. "Second cults are religion based and mostly for people in Hollywood who feel bad about making so much money. Covens are historically for those of us with the gift, but the name fell out of vogue when we started getting burned at the cross for being members. You can just say he hangs out with others who are gifted, if that is what they truly are." I said calmly trying to reel in her desperate emotions quite subtly. "The odds are that what he is actually part of is a scam to take his money."

"Eric does not have much money, he is an immigrant from Brazil." She explained.

"Legal?" I asked. She looked at me without answering which served to answer the question well enough and also explain just why the police were not to be involved in this.

"Look I know what I saw and these guys he is with are dangerous." Ms. Brown continued. "I watched them focus on a guy and make him step out into the road right in front of a truck."

That revelation brought me up short. There were certainly spells able to make people do what she had just described, but these were all powers like my own; ones that caused manipulation of the mind but on a much deeper and stronger level like hypnotism. This action she was describing also meant the spells were black magic and completely forbidden by the White Council that rules over all wizards.

"Are you sure they did not just take credit for an accident?" I asked, hoping it would be so.

"No." She answered. "They talked about what they planned to do hours ahead of time. They even picked the target. A guy they said was an undesirable and therefore not worthy of life anyway. Then they tracked him down from the museum where he works and followed him until they made him walk in front of the truck."

"Dammit." I thought to myself. I have so far failed to mention that I had a bit of a history with the White Council, those same lords who make the laws and sit in judgment over those of us born with the gift. You see not all that long ago I saved the life of my boyfriend by invading his mind in a similar manner to what Ms. Brown described. I admit this is not the smartest thing I have ever done, and it certainly put me in bad with the White Council; bad as in death sentence bad. But damn it I saved his life! Why can't they see the good I was able to do even if I broke one of their tiny laws in the process? And of course to reverse the execution order they placed upon me that Harry was to carry out, Harry had promised to train me and to accept my execution fate as well if I broke another such law. Yeah, Harry is an idiot most of the time, and really annoying as a master, but I do love the guy.

Of course this whole thing put me smack dab in the middle of another quandary. When the death sentence was suspended, part of my oath was to agree to live under the rules of the White Council. Well one of those rules is to hunt down anyone found violating those rules. With Harry out of town it was just possible that someone on the White Council might have created this whole situation merely to see if I would do what I had sworn to do and turn in someone who was probably not all that different from who I had been. If I did not, even if the whole thing was a setup, they would still have the grounds to execute Harry and me.

"Alright I will start by looking into it by talking to a friend of mine on the police force. Don't worry I will not mention any names, just see if this hit and run actually happened the way you said it did." I said trying to mask the conflicting emotions now running through my own mind so as to not confuse her even more. "If your story checks out and the guy's autopsy does not show he was hopped up on Meth or something, then I will agree to look for Eric and we can meet again and you can give me a picture of him and any other useful information you might have to help me search."

She merely nodded. "How much is this going to cost me?" She asked a bit timidly.

"It's five hundred dollars a week, in cash, and in advance." I said making up what I thought was an outrageous number. I expected to have to come down to about two hundred but it seemed good to negotiate.

"Oh thank God." She said and immediately opened up her purse and pulled out a fist-sized roll of hundred dollar bills. She counted off ten and laid them on the desk. "Two weeks in advance should be agreeable?" She asked and I merely nodded. I was so mesmerized by a quick thousand that I looked once more to the door and could really picture pink letters saying Molly Carpenter right underneath Harry's name.

"That will be just fine." I said rolling them back up and hiding them where women the world over place their valuables like this. In the process my necklace and cross fell out and hung in front of me, catching Ms. Brown's eye. It was not like one of those vampire moments where the creature sees a crucifix and screams, but rather she saw it and seemed to actually relax.

"You are a Christian?" She asked amazed.

"Roman Catholic actually." I said. My mother would do terrible things to me if I even thought not to admit proudly what faith our family was. I must admit I still found it comforting at times.

"I thought wizards were a religion." She said.

"No. Well actually some see it that way. But for the rest of us our choice in faiths are completely our own." I answered.

She paused again and bit her lip as she came to another decision. "You should know that Eric and his friends see themselves as religious too." She said hesitantly.

"Like I said, that is not a problem." I answered. "What we choose to believe has nothing to do with our occupation. If you are worried about the whole Exodus 22:18 Thou Shall Not Suffer a Witch to Live thing you should know this is one of those laws that changed in the New Testament." I explained quoting one of Harry's lessons.

"Maybe that explains why Eric's friends have such an issue with Jews." She said. "They don't follow the new laws."

I thought about this statement for a moment as Ms. Brown gathered up her things to depart. "I'm staying at the Airport Hilton if you need to get in touch with me." She said and I merely nodded making a mental note of this. In truth my mind barely registered her departure by the closing of the door, or Mouse's return from lying under Harry's desk while she was here. Instead I was focused on the dozens of ways I could screw up and get both myself and Harry executed for violating White Council law. I shuddered at the thought until Mouse sat next to me and laid his big head on my lap looking for scratches. His big eyes looked up at me as if to say "Molly, everything will be alright, if you just scratch my ears for a bit." I smiled at him and hoped he was correct and then did just as he asked. It seems there is a new wizard in Chicago town…and her name is Molly Carpenter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Axis and Allies**

_**Sunday **_

_**Chapter 2**_

When Harry told me to take care of things while he was gone, I took that to mean I could play with all his toys as long as I did not break any of them. Okay let me correct that, I could play with all his non-magical toys; some of the magical ones he kept were just downright scary! Anyway, this for all intensive purposes meant that I had full access to the Blue Beetle rather than having to borrow my dad's truck, or god forbid my mother's minivan.

Why Harry named his car that was beyond me. Okay sure, the car was an old Volkswagen Beetle so I got that part of it. But blue? I'm sorry but I have to say I have pointed out to him many times that there is very little blue anywhere on the car. Instead there is red, green, yellow, white, and primer gray. In fact I could say with a fair degree of certainty that if anything the color of the Beetle should be classified as rust because that seemed the most dominant color of them all.

Of course vocalizing that fact to Harry resulted in me having to spend an entire night at a miniature golf course trying, only through telekinetic magical pushes and a single golf ball, to complete the entire course. He only allowed me to rest when I literally collapsed as my last push made the ball drop into the cup. I could tell you with some pride that I shot a 72 par for the course that night! Of course Harry would likely tell you my 72 was all taken up on the first and only hole that I completed. Did I mention that after abusive masters, I also hate those miniature golf course windmills almost as much?

Mouse climbed right into the backseat, basically taking it up completely and immediately fell into a pleasant doggie dream from the tongue hanging smile on his face that I could see in the review mirror. In fairness to Harry's devotion to it, the Blue Beetle started right up immediately when I turned the key and then pulled out into traffic. The honking horns reminding me just in time to remember I am supposed to look before pulling out. Okay I was distracted but I calmed down quickly enough. I'm really not a bad driver. I never hit another car and only hit one little opossum once and he jumped into the road in front of me while I was changing the channel on the radio in my dad's truck.

Being that it was mid-afternoon on a Sunday, the streets were comparatively lighter with traffic than they would have been on a weekday with everyone trying to get home this time of day. The fact that the police station where I was headed was only a few blocks away allowed me to arrive after just a few minutes and allowed me to find a parking spot relatively quickly. However, as I turned off the car's engine and looked at the station I realized that I could not just walk in and demand to see Sergeant Karrin Murphy.

I also could not just sit here in my car next to a police station until I came up with a reasonable plan. The police are trained to notice such things, and when they notice them, they begin to ask questions. One of those questions might be if this car belongs to me, and since it does not, and since they could not actually talk to the owner, they might just decide to hold me for questioning until they could confirm my story. Of course the only way to do that would be to call my parents, and since my dad was working, then it would be my mom who came down to the station to vouch for me… and only if she felt like it. I would not put it past her to let me stew for most of the evening just so she could give me one of those 'See Ms. Independent you still need me!' type looks she had been working on for the past five years. That alone almost made the first ever Chicago death sentence for grand theft auto pale by comparison. If you doubt me let me introduce you to my mother Charity, not a name that describes her demeanor toward her children, and see what you say then.

Of course right along with my mother I could hear Harry's voice in my mind lecturing me about how important it was to plan things ahead and to have at least one contingency in case the first plan failed. I, on the other hand, believe more in inspiration than in detailed planning. Inspiration never requires a backup because you just keep going no matter what happens. All in all a much better saving in time as far as I was concerned.

Okay, so after just a few moments of delay, enough to turn a few heads in my direction, I fell back the old reliable plan and talents I had available for the past few years. I pulled the neckline of my t-shirt a little lower, pushed some things up a bit more, and tucked the shirt tight in my jeans to accentuate the enhancements before getting out of the car. I closed the door and walked straight toward the station, noting that the looks of suspicion were turning into something a little different by those who were watching my approach. The fact that the two nearest officers trying to pull in their stomachs a little more to stand straighter I took as a compliment to my efforts.

"Hey guys, can you tell me who I see about picking up a friend of mine you have down here?" I asked.

They stumbled a bit as their eyes glanced about. "Uh…sure... why don't I…" The slightly younger one said.

"That would be great!" I said making him smile and thinking I was warming to him. "The officer who called said she had thrown up in the back of his squad car and was not going to drive her home." I added a disgusted look to my face that let forth passive emotions also. "If you would drive her home so I don't get puke in the car I borrowed that would be so cool! Then I would not have to clean it all out. You know how that smell lingers forever." I smiled and even batted my lashes at him. I'm not sure what that actually is supposed to do, but compared to the possibility of vomit in his car, the young officer decided to take a pass.

"I'm sorry miss. I'm just off duty and late for an appointment." He said in way of a cover. "You will find the desk sergeant right inside behind the desk. He will be able to tell you where they are holding your friend." He backed just slightly away to emphasize his point.

"Oh I understand." And walked on past. "Thanks for the help." I walked on feeling their eyes on me as I walked up the steps. Once past them I began to concentrate and pull in magic from the world around me as my mind formulated the spell I planned to cast. I began speaking the words at the top of the steps as I passed through the first set of double doors into the entryway, waited for them to close and block out view from outside, but before opening the second set, then I released my spell.

Harry always said I had a natural talent for sensitive magic so it really was not hard to evoke a veil over myself that made me invisible to the world around me. In truth, I am not so much invisible as I just go along unnoticed, providing I do not do anything stupid such as bump into someone which of course would be hard to fail to notice. Some people like Harry of course can sense magic to a degree so my veils around him need to be at their best. But for normal people, especially those not looking to find me, a simple veil that I did not need to concentrate on as hard usually suffices.

I was forced to wait for perhaps a minute, but thankfully a police station sees lots of traffic in the middle of the day, even on a Sunday, so the second set of double doors slammed open soon enough, followed by a rather disgruntled looking biker who grumbled that whatever had happened to him was yet another example of the 'man' trying to keep him down. I thanked the 'man' for it allowed me to step into the station without having those inside see a door open but no one there.

All in all I was congratulating myself on my cunning plan when I was drawn up short. I had not taken into account that to get into the actual office area of the station itself I would be required to pass through a metal detector. World terrorism and the need for increased security had become a burden on wizards as well.

It was at this point that I began to accept that Harry might occasionally be right about planning. Had I thought this through I would probably not be standing invisible in the middle of a crowd of people wandering every which way and trying to figure out what to do next without bumping into anyone. It's not like I could suddenly appear, and I was just too damn stubborn (a trait I get from my mother) to accept backing outside once more to start over. I was committed to my course now.

I stepped around the side of the desk and waited for my opportunity. It came in the form of a rather large Southern Baptist preacher who came down to those sitting in jail on a Sunday to bring the word of his savior. Like at an airport, the preacher took off all his metal including his belt and shoes and placed those in a tray to go through the scanner. He then offered a big smile to the officer manning the position until he was waved though and allowed to proceed right through the detector. Of course I was invisible and right on his heels.

I know I mentioned earlier how electronics and wizards really do not coexist very well. I sort of skipped over the part that the more modern the electronics, the more likely they are to break, sometime quite spectacularly. Harry's home phone is a 1950s Ma Bell special which works reliably about seventy five percent of the time. Harry can be within ten feet and just look at a blue-tooth equipped cell phone and it will immediately go dead. I should also probably mention that the metal detector looked brand new.

Had the officer on duty been slightly more alert he might have noticed that the alarm went off a half second after the priest had gone through. Did I mention that I wear necklaces, rings, earrings, and a nice metal belt buckle with this casual ensemble? I look pretty darn good, well that is if you could actually see me which of course they could not. But it seems that metal detectors do not have to see to function. The metal I had on was enough to set the alarms screeching. Well screeching right until the whole thing shorted out and smoke started pouring from the device.

The preacher jumped away to the left and I scooted out of the way to the right as two more officers rushed over to investigate. I figured that amidst the preacher's vehement denials of having done anything wrong even though he had jumped in surprise, and the officers' threats of a full body cavity search that perhaps it was time for a very pretty Molly Carpenter to go find Sergeant Murphy. Thankfully a little sign by the stairs told me which floor to find the Special Investigations division.

I took the stairs up to the correct floor which had a few holding cells and served as the Special Investigations section's home of record. Here were their desks, phones, coffee machines, and file cabinets full of case files on all that was weird that happened in Chicago. Needless to say there were a large number of file cabinets.

I could not help but note how new everything looked in this part of the precinct. When I started my apprenticeship Harry made sure to tell me the story on how Karrin and her team had captured a loup-garou; which is basically taking the worst type of werewolf you have seen in the movies, mixing the personality of a serial-killing cannibal, and removing all the endearing features which may remain. Harry got there about the time it began its break out from a cell that left almost a dozen wounded or dead and this floor of the building torn apart, covered in blood, and sporting numerous bullet holes. Yeah, three reasons for a renovation and one reason for a cute apprentice of the city's only advertised wizard not to take any potential encounters with the supernatural of Chicago for granted.

Of course, my luck being only slightly better than Harry's I wandered in and found two officers sitting at desks and neither one was Karrin. I know she used to have her own office, but since getting busted back down to sergeant she shared the common room with the rest of the squad and her new lieutenant took her office. The fact that she was not there or in her old office sort of set me back in my planning until I noted the sign out board next to the hallway I had entered from. She wrote 'gym' telling me where she was and I quickly retraced my steps back downstairs to find out where the gym was located. I don't see why Harry makes such a big deal about this investigation stuff, I seem to have a knack for it so who needs plans? I was just thankful I could keep up a veil without requiring full concentration for as long as I required. I guess there was something to all of Harry's training.

The police gym was in the basement of the building, which I guess makes sense since it would be the coolest part and no one likes to work out and broil at the same time. I walked down the stairs and from the bottom could hear the standard noises, weights being dropped and masculine grunting, coming from the other end of the hall as I walked by the canine cages.

I realized a small error on my part just as the first dog began to bark at me. Simple veils work primarily only on humans. Dogs' senses being more acute let them notice me, either by sound or smell or something because as I walked their eyes followed me with no problem. I guess most did not see me as a threat because they just watched quietly, but the big some kind of dog on the end named Brutus based on the name on his pen, decided I looked like I was carrying hotdogs or something and started barking as I walked by. Not normal dog type barking oh no, but rather 'hey there is trouble' type barking. I scooted past him and into the gym, moving to the side just in time to see two fairly attractive male cops in the gym shorts and t-shirts, wringing in sweat, come out into the hall to investigate. By this time I was out of sight of the dog leaning up against one of the few sections of wall not covered by a full length mirror but rather by a towel rack, looking at Karrin Murphy and a third male office, similarly dressed to the others to include sweat, standing and waiting for a report of what was going on. The steel in her eyes made me wonder if she was thinking about the loup-garou incident again.

"Quiet down Brutus." One of the original pair ordered and the big dog wound down his barking slowly as if to say "Look idiot I'm only trying to protect you like you trained me." Of course since the officer had not seen me he did not understand this. I will admit this additional issue might be further reasoning that building a plan may, in some cases such as sneaking into a police station, have some merit.

As the two entered back into the gym I could see Murphy relax just slightly. "Problem?" She asked.

"No Brutus just decided to start barking." The cop replied. "There was no one out there so must be just some sort of dog thing to do."

"Or it could be all the testosterone in the air." The other cop next to Murphy joked.

"Since I am the one kicking your three asses, I would go with estrogen." She said.

"With you Murph that might still be testosterone." The guy next to her joked making the other two men laugh a bit as well, more out of politeness for I could detect the worry in their eyes that their third compatriot had stepped over a line he should not have. Karrin smiled, which made me think everything was ok. Then she moved!

Harry told me Karrin is a Aikido black belt, and having been on the receiving end of one of her attacks once when I was in a veil, which was pretty much…no exactly the same situation I was in now, I could accept that statement without need to actually see her belt. Had the cop standing next to her been as wise as I was he would have perhaps been more prepared for her response. As he raised his bottle of water to his lips and tipped back his head to drink, Karrin, who is only five feet tall so already out of his peripheral vision anyway, dropped straight down to the floor in a splits move that would make a Russian ballerina envious, converted her downward momentum into energy and swung her left leg around three quarters of the circle to sweep the drinking cop's legs out from under him.

The bottle of water went flying and the cop landed badly, the back of his head striking the mat with a thud that proclaimed even that padding was not enough. Before he could think of recovering, or likely even register the pain yet, Karrin straddled the six-foot four, two-hundred and twenty pound officer's chest, locking his arms to his side with her equally powerful thighs and grabbed him by the neck to speak to him.

"Come on Mike." She said with deadly earnest. "Tell your friends that you just got beat up by a little girl."

Mike, the downed officer obviously, did not even attempt to resist. He just mumbled almost incoherently "I got beat up by a little gur…" His eyes looked glassy as they rolled back into his head even from a distance. Well, it was not like he did not ask for it I reasoned.

Murphy got off of him and turned to the two others who were each smaller than Mike and had stood there while she had taken down their more physically imposing friend with a move they had not seen coming either. "Go run his head under a cold shower for five minutes and he will be fine." She said turning away and not even looking back at Mike as she moved in my direction. The others rushed to comply without so much as a 'Yes Murph' between them, though I was pretty certain I could hear a "Did you see what she did?" comment just before they dragged their unconscious companion into the men's locker room and the door shut behind them.

"Alright Molly you can come out now." Murphy said out loud as she reached for the towel on the rack next to me.

"How did you know?" I asked dropping the veil and seeing her tense for just a moment at how close I was to her and then relax as she registered I was not a threat.

"A combination of the dog barking, Brutus is too well trained to alert for nothing, and the fact you are still wearing that same perfume." She said nonchalantly as she toweled off the beading sweat from her body. "I caught a whiff of it and as you might tell, jasmine seems out of place in this type of environment.

I grimaced as this was something I really should have taken into account. There are a lot of things in the faire realm that hunt through sense of smell rather than sight or hearing. Many of those things seemed to have a personal vendetta against my master. Therefore, I should probably use a slightly stronger and more sophisticated veil if I am going to walk around telling people I am Harry Dresden.

"Is Harry back yet?" Murphy asked as she finished wiping the sweat from her face and stared at me to see my reaction. I flinched somewhat reflexively from the question because I knew Harry and Murphy had this unstated emotional bond thing between them that sort of grated on my nerves at times. Not that Murphy was not great or anything, it's just I had trouble seeing her and Harry as a couple. Her eyes held a twinkle that said I had not hidden my emotion on this nearly quickly enough.

"No he is not back yet, which is why…" I started to say in response and a bit awkwardly also.

"Damn I really have a case I need to talk to him about." She said and turned her eyes from me as she toweled off a bit more by dabbing her highly toned arms and legs. Considering she was about twice my age I have to say in fairness she did not look it. But that still did not make her good enough for Harry in my book!

"Why don't you tell me about it?" I said causing her to stop what she was doing at look at me once more with skepticism written all across her face that made me feel just a twinge of desire to slap her. "I am Harry's apprentice so of the two of us standing here I am the only one likely to have any answer and questions related to the spooky side of things." I tried to be light on this but it was a bit more condescending in delivery. Okay…meow...I said it now leave me alone!

"Whatever you say kid." She looked at me and then shrugged and went back to dabbing dry. But either she decided I was right or that my challenge was no threat, probably the latter, so she started talking.

"A few days ago we found a recent grave that had been disturbed right after the body had been buried." She began without looking at me. "This type of thing gets put in the Special Investigations Division pile and lands on my desk as a 'potentially spooky' type of event." I reasoned that 'potentially spooky' was a subcategory those in Special Investigations used to describe ones with possible occult leanings.

"The odds are you are dealing with a run of the mill body snatcher." I said knowing all this from what Harry had explained to me. "There is a significant underworld market for body parts such as skulls and a recent grave is far easier to dig into than one that has sat for years." I explained knowing that Harry kept such a prize on the shelf himself in his workroom for some odd reason. I even heard him once refer to it as Bob. I think Harry really needs to get out of the house more and talk to real people.

"On the off chance that it is something worse you are most likely looking at a ghoul trying to catch a quick and easy meal." I tried to be calm about this even though I knew ghouls could be pretty fierce opponents. Harry and Murphy had faced such things before so she would know what to do, namely iron-based responses, that worked quite effectively. I purposely tried not to think that this event could also mean we had another necromancer working somewhere in Chicago because that type of magic was more than I was ready to face by myself.

"I'm sorry I did not explain myself clearly." Karrin said toweling her hair now. "I said the grave had been disturbed. What I should have said is that all the dirt that had been on the grave was gone. It was not moved or piled on the side as you would suspect, but instead it was carted away completely." She said then wrapped the towel she was using around her neck to communicate she was ready to head to the showers. "The casket was exposed but had not been opened. We did a quick check and the body inside was fully intact and had not been touched."

Wow that was certainly a new one to me. As far as I knew there was no black market for grave dirt. And that meant if there was no reason to sell it, then somebody had a use for it. And whatever that dirt was needed for, a load of regular topsoil that a person could pick up relatively cheaply at a garden center would not suffice. Instead someone had to dare a few hours of dirty, hand labor, since I assume a front end loader would be a little conspicuous going into a graveyard at night, piling the dirt into a truck without anyone catching them in the process.

"I assume you looked for truck prints or whatever you call them in the world of police work?" I asked.

"Tire marks." She answered. "And yes we looked but there were none."

"None at all?"

"Nope."

"So you are suggesting that some loaded half a ton of dirt into what, sacks, and carried it off by hand?" I asked incredulously.

"Actually I am told it was about twelve cubic yards of dirt which normally weight about one ton each, except it had just rained pretty heavily so multiply half again for water content." Murphy explained making me run through the numbers in my head.

"Eighteen tons?" I asked. "Carried away completely by hand in one night without the use of machines or a truck?"

"No." She said making me relax somewhat until she continued. "They only had about a four hour period actually from when the last mourners, the grandfather of the victim, went home until the morning groundskeepers arrived to find it missing."

"That's impossible!" I said shaking my head. "Could the grandfather have lied?"

"Impossible even for magic oh more wise and knowledgeable one than myself?" Karrin said with a wry smile. "And no, we are only mortals but we doubt a ninety-three year old man who walks bent nearly doubled over could have moved the dirt."

"Alright you may have a point." I said realizing that magic was the only way this could have happened if everything else Murphy had passed on to me was true. But still what would someone need all that dirt for? It certainly explained why this otherwise fairly common sounding potential crime would end up on the desk of Special Investigations.

"Tell you what I will check out some of the reference books Harry left for me and see if I can come up with anything." I said hoping this was an acceptable compromise.

She looked at me for a moment and smiled. "I would appreciate that Molly." She said giving me the hint of an honest smile. While I still did not think she was the right woman for Harry, I had to admit she still was pretty cool. "Why were you coming to see me?" She asked pulling me away from images of massive piles of dirt being carried away by faceless and sinister men with sacks to refocus me on the reason I actually had come here.

"Oh yeah." I said. "I was wondering if you had heard anything about some guy who works at a museum stepping out into the street and getting taken out by a truck?"

Her whole body seemed to lock up when I asked what to me was a fairly simple and straightforward question. "Why do you ask?" She did not seem to relax upon asking me that signaled the answer was very important to her for some odd reason.

"Someone came by the office wanting to hire Harry and they also mentioned having seen this event take place while we were talking." I answered. "I wanted to check on the reliability of the details in some of her stories before I told Harry about her. You would not believe the types of the nutcases who want to hire a wizard." Okay it was not the complete truth, but most of it.

"Well I can tell you that such a situation as you described did happen last week. It was in the newspapers as well." She began before I interrupted.

"Any chance it was an accident or drugs?" I interrupted.

"The guy was from a Hasidic Jewish family so we were denied an autopsy or the chance to do a drug screening based on religious beliefs. The Mayor's office is up for election and does not want to piss off potential donors." Karrin answered. "Because there were witnesses that said he merely stepped out in front of traffic we had to rule it a suicide. Do you or this new friend of yours know some reason why we shouldn't?" She asked me with a penetrating glare that only police officers and of course Charity Carpenter were capable of creating at the drop of a hat.

"No not at all." I said. "Like I explained the person wanting to talk to Harry seemed like a nutcase to me. Having mentioned being there and seeing this event take place so I thought this would be a good way to determine if her stories are reliable or she is someone to avoid." I hoped this sounded reasonable to an experience cop.

"Stay away from this situation Molly." Karrin said sternly to me in dialogue my mother could have written for her.

"Really I wasn't planning on getting involved in…" I began before Murphy cut me off with a raised hand. That was bad enough to irk me but then I saw her eyes soften toward me.

"Molly, trust me I know what it is to grow up surrounded by people you see as heroes." Karrin said quietly. "My dad was respected as the best cop on the force. My uncles were almost as good." She said letting me take a peek inside of her own childhood. "It makes you feel like life has set incredibly high bars for you as well which can push you into taking on challenges you are not ready for." She said making me a little angry and defensive that this is what she thought of me. "I know it did in my case." She said with open honesty.

I almost looked into her eyes at that point because of the emotion her words carried shocked me. Thankfully, I remembered the consequences in time and prevented this from happening. When a wizard stares directly into someone's eyes they see right into the soul of that other person. All their secrets, their fears, and their triumphs lay revealed. But at the same time the other person looks similarly into you. While I was certainly not afraid to look and see the real Karrin, especially to see if she really loved Harry or not, I did not want Karrin seeing that much of me; I did not want her to see how right she was and how much alike the two of us were.

"Really Karrin I have no plans on getting any more involved." I said hoping she would accept that statement even if neither of us believed it.

"Alright kid, if you say so." She said and I turned to leave. I made it only three steps before she passed on one last thing. "Molly, the guy from the museum…" She said drawing me up short to turn and look at her.

"Yeah, what about him?"

"It was his grave that the dirt was removed from."


	3. Chapter 3

**Axis and Allies**

**_Sunday _**

**_Chapter 3_**

Magic is sort of like a deck of cards. A wizard is really restricted primarily to the cards they are dealt at birth. For Harry, the cards he was provided are in many ways perfect for his line of work and effective for dealing with all the trouble he gets into. He can cast fire spells with relative ease, while for me it is much like running a marathon. He also can use electricity, wind, and bend most other primal elements to suit his purposes. What's worse is that these skills for the basis in many ways for the vast majority of White Council wizards as well. Though they have their own various ways of doing things, most wizards of the White Council, when you get right down to it, all manipulate the natural forces around them to achieve the goals.

On the other hand there are not a lot of sensitive wizards like me, or at least not a lot that Harry knows about. I think this has a lot to do with genetics. Harry explained to me that the gift of magic is passed from parent to child just like blood types, eye color, or most other genetic things. And just like such traits, these things can be targeted by those who do not like them. Harry once suggested to me that perhaps most of those actual witches burned in the various trials over the centuries were probably sensitive wizards. If you read the accounts of those who testified against them it is always stories of how they made an innocent man more lustful, or caused someone to commit murder, or led a community into civil disharmony. There are not any stories I am aware of where angry mobs accusied a witch of casting spells of fire or lighting. I suspect that no one in their right mind tries to further anger someone who is capable of such feats by calling the local magistrate to come arrest him or her. But of course we sensitive wizard types are far easier to arrest, especially by an already emotionally charged crowd which is hard to do much with even if you are powerful. You can think on this as similar to Harry trying to burn water with a spell. It can be done but it takes a whole lot of preparation and energy, things you sometimes do not have available.

So anyway it is just my opinion that sensitive wizards were more or less culled from the herd over the generations making our type of magic far rarer, and those gifted with it far more cautious about revealing ourselves. And do not even get me started on how the White Council's rules were all written with my type of magic in mind as well.

Anyway as I was saying, we are dealt certain cards at birth and these are the ones we are allowed to play when our time comes. But like many good card games a wizard can also take a turn to draw from the deck to improve their hand. This is done through things such as the shield bracelet of charms I wear on my wrist and more importantly through the creation of potions.

Reports of magical potions date back all throughout human history. For example the Greeks described the hero Achilles' near invulnerability to the River Styx while the River Lethe could make people forget everything they knew. Both of these effects coincidentally have potions today that can produce the same results and oddly enough, both use fresh river water as their base liquid. While I cannot of course prove it with any certainty, it seems likely what Homer and the other Greeks described was wizard alchemy of their time.

So when I got the Blue Beetle back over to Harry's apartment and let a revived Mouse into the house so that he could find another place to stretch out and rest, I decided that if I was going to do a little investigating it might help my hand if I added a few trump card potions to it. Harry had taught me a few of the basic types such as one to allow you to escape and another that provided you a limited time of fully restored energy for your body. The latter I had used in studying for my school finals in an all-night cram session. Thankfully I had completed all of them when the potion wore off and I crashed at my desk in the classroom for the next few hours. A sustained burst of energy could be useful, but it came with a price.

Harry has a secret sub-basement beneath his apartment which is where I was required to do most of my magical studies. The room was a heavy concrete box, dominated by a large table in the middle of the floor what had a replica of downtown Chicago displayed on it and another apparently open space that on closer inspection actually contained a wizard's summoning circle. Both the circle and the table were strictly off-limits for to me for any types of spells which was completely fine with me based on what these things were used for. The blowback potential or chance to call forth the wrong entity was not mistakes I wanted to make.

What I did have full access to was the load of books and spell materials on the shelves around the room, and a much smaller table, not much different from a fold out card table, where I could work on my potions. As I came down the stairs and lit a few candles around the room for light I noted the other oddly dominant feature in the room.

"Hi Bob." I said talking to the skull that set prominently on one shelf. Of course it did not respond, but what the heck if Harry talks to it then I most certainly can. To give you an insight into just how twisted Harry's mind is, the only other items that sit on the same shelf as Bob are trashy romance novels. And I am not even talking about ones written by respectable authors. I am no prude, but these are smut wrapped in a fancy cover that always has some bare-chested man standing behind a woman showing lots of cleavage. I have read every one of them, some twice, and I have to say the intimate descriptions in some can even make me blush. But for all that I have never seen Harry actually read one of them. Like I said, my master is a pretty strange guy.

The rest of the books in the room, they number slightly over a hundred volumes, are dedicated completely to magic. This is cool that he has such an extensive library, but I also quickly figured out that there is no organization or no order to where things are located. And since most books on magic jump from subject to subject, what Harry really needs is one of those old note card-based card catalogue filing systems. A good computer has replaced these for the most part in real libraries but they would not do him any good because he'd burn them out. On the other hand a librarian would also be helpful but of course not as far as Harry is concerned. In fact, the one time I heard Harry use the name 'Bob' in relation to the skull was when Harry jokingly asking Bob where a certain book was located. I guess this vocalization helps him jog his memory because he seemed to find the book immediately after.

But before I began my search for grave dirt I decided I better get my potion simmering. My master had explained to me that the process for making a potion was always the same, not necessarily in ingredients, but that one must always use a standard type process. This procedure always begins with a base liquid that symbolically represents the effect. For example, when Harry makes a stimulant potion like I was about to, he uses coffee as his base because of its caffeine effects and how everyone seems to think starting off with a piping hot cup of joe gets your day rolling and gives you energy.

For my starting base I prefer something a little more modern. I start with Beast energy drink. A sixteen ounce can of Beast is said to contain the same amount of caffeine as eight regular cups of coffee. I figure since I would only be consuming this potion when I needed an extra spurt of energy, then I better make sure that extra spurt was as reinvigorating as possible. Plus, the advertisements on the can had a really hot guy tearing off his shirt to 'release the beast' as their advertising campaign called it. That surely beats looking at rather than some old dude in a sombrero pulling a donkey if you ask me. I popped open the can and poured it into the beaker to let it start simmering to a boil on an old school-type Bunsen burner which we used for this process.

Gathering up the rest of the materials was not too hard since Harry kept a pretty good stash. For taste I used a cinnamon bun instead of a donut as he preferred, the cock's crow for hearing, a mourning breeze of freshness for smell, shower gel for touch, and some pieces of a picture looking out a window at a sunrise for sight. Harry had explained that it was necessary to use items the wizard recognized as associated with the effect so that the magic would take hold. So for understanding, a wizard making a similar potion in Japan would likely not use coffee but instead tea as the morning drink of choice.

The last two elements necessary was something for the mind and something for the spirit. Harry thought that a to-do list was his inspiration to get out of bed. I am a bit more practical and found that cartoon images of my favorite childhood Saturday morning television shows worked better for me because they did not leave me dragging on about what else I should be doing when I drank the potion.

For the spirit element of the potion Harry likes bright, cheerful music. My god he actually has used some donations from his friend Waldo Butters in this potion. Waldo is not only a fan of, but probably owns the most extensive collection of polka music in the Midwest, which means probably the most extensive collection in the world because no one else seems to listen to it. So for the record, he talks to an old skull, keeps trashy romance novels, and has a good friend who shares polka music with him…anyone want to offer a reason why Harry is still unmarried at this time?

I of course went with some of the hottest techno dance club music currently available. There is no way you can slow down when club woofers literally make the dance floor vibrate beneath your feet. This would give my potion just the additional little kick it required.

I waited until the Beast was bubbling nicely then added each of these elements one by one, making sure they dissolved while I kept stirring and once I was assured they had I turned the burner down to a level that would let the potion simmer for a while and slowly draw in magic from the world around to give it its actual potency. It also looked like there would be enough for two doses, which was fine by me as this was one of those things good to have around in an emergency.

I turned at this point to start figuring out where to begin my research. Imagine being in a library from some foreign country where you only know a few words and you are asked to find information on the dietary habits of elephants. That is a good comparison to my own task, except they likely would at least have pictures of elephants in the book, whereas I was consigned to focusing solely on finding answers through my reading.

From my lessons with Harry I knew that Earth was one of the four principle elements therefore part of magic, however, it was also the one used the least and in those cases almost exclusively for defense. The reason for this is the very nature of the elements. In combat wizards wanted things that could strike fast and hard at their opponents before their enemies did the same to them. Therefore wizard tend to select things such as fire and air attacks because these were both the easiest to produce and could offer the greatest harm in the shortest time.

Water magic tended to only be common with those practitioners who came from highly liquid environments such as islands or swamps where large, ready pools of this resource could be gathered quickly. Their effects were usually slower to begin than those of air or fire, but they made up for this by their persistence. Where a fire or air spell might bounce off an opponent's shield, a water-based spell would attack the shield in successive concussive bursts, like waves landing on a beach, none of them individually strong enough to break through, but on the whole able to shatter the defense through repetitions of assault.

Earth magic, by comparison, tended to be a very slow and deliberative process. This worked fine for defenses where barriers were raised in preparation of an attack, but was difficult to use effectively in attacking. A wizard for example could unleash an earthquake if they so desired against an entire city, but to do this the wizard had to slowly gather up this power over a much longer period of time that other elements required and once it reached critical mass, providing the wizard did not get distracted and have all this latent, kinetic, magical energy blow him or her up instead, then he or she could release it to create a devastating area of effect. Thankfully there were few wizards able to draw on this amount of power or exert this level of control.

The second part to this mystery is that not any dirt would suffice, but only that from a freshly dug grave. This screamed that necromancy seemed to be at the core of this issue. That really upset me because Harry had very few reference to necromantic magic because, well first of all the White Council forbid it and therefore it carried a death sentence with its use, and second these types of wizards were traditionally loners by nature so why would they record their finding for anyone else?

I was angry and frustrated at myself for this. It was not because I did not know where to begin my search, but because I was fairly certain it was going to be a waste of time in the end anyway. And then Karrin would say something condescending like 'Thanks for trying kid, I guess I will just have to wait for Harry to return.' That would of course make me feel less than useful. And when he did he would likely have an answer almost immediately not only making me look bad, but probably make Murphy look at him all doe eyed again!

"Aaaarrrggg!" I screamed out loud to release my frustration in one mighty bellow rather than have it continue to distract me. Harry had taught me this was a good way to refocus when you mind wanders to something dark and distracting and I had to agree with him. I might need to tone it down some though for it nearly knocked that skull Bob off the shelf.

"Alright Molly let's focus here." I said aloud to regain control. "What do we know?" At times like this I really wish Harry had a whiteboard down here that I could scribble my thoughts down on and try to organize them. I think I will suggest that when he gets back since there is no technology involved. Instead I guess I would just list them aloud to myself since hearing something said allows for better recall.

"One…we know that Ms. Brown's boyfriend and his companions said they were going to kill the museum guy as some sort of test." I said ticking off a finger on my left hand.

"Two…we know that the museum guy walked straight in front of a truck while they watched." I continued. "This strongly suggests some sort of sensitive magic at play. It sensitive magic is at play, then the users are rogues since they manipulated another's mind and used magic to kill him. That is two big strikes against them."

"Three…we know that after being buried the dirt from the museum guy's grave was removed for some unknown purpose." I said. "This suggests either an earth-based elemental wizard or more likely a necromancer is involved in all of this. And based upon how the group picked the museum guy as their target originally, it seems they had a reason to do so, and that reason may have been to collect this dirt. But why would they want it?" I asked aloud and no one of course answered. I even looked at Bob the Skull to jokingly see if he had anything for me but he was silent. "No ideas from you either Bob? Guess you are not planning on saying anything that might help me out on this case are you?" God I'm getting to be as bad as Harry! Next thing you know I will be listening to polka music too.

I probably giggled to myself for a few moments thankful that I was not actually cracking up, but knowing I had the opportunity to if I chose to take that path. I might have done so for a bit longer if things had not changed. At that moment though a shudder ran through my body, making me feel as if I was being observed or spied upon. Harry had explained to me that as a 'sensitive' magician that I was more likely to pick up on such things and that I should take such feelings serious when they occur. I looked around the small sub-basement until I finally found the source of the feeling and identified the villain stalking down the stairs directly at me.

Harry called him Mister. If that had meant to be the start of a longer name such a Mister Magoo, I do not know because it always ended with Mister when Harry talked to or about him. What Mister was is a thirty pound street cat of mixed parentage that Harry believed might include bobcat. Not a lot of bobcats running free in Chicago mind you and I seriously doubted that Mister's mother went looking for love in the city zoo and lived to tell the tale. That being said I too could not explain without such farfetched stories how a domestic cat had grown so large.

In all the time I had studied over at Harry's house, and especially when I had worked here in the lab, Mister had rarely paid me any attention except to notify me if his food or water bowl was empty. Since I had just filled them both before coming down here to work I had no idea why the cat would bother to come into this room that he normally avoided or why his eyes shown affection toward me for the first time ever.

He stood staring at me from the bottom of the stairs as if deciding between two or more courses just what he wanted to do next. A quick glance told me the potion was simmering just fine and did not need my immediate attention so I turned back to look at Mister who was still watching me and then kneeled down so I was not quite so intimidating. "What is wrong Mister?" I asked while trying to send out a calming type vibe. I do not know if this effect worked on animals but I figured it did not hurt to try. "Do you want a little love and attention?" I smiled.

Whatever it was in my tone or action that seemed to help the feline make up its mind and it sauntered directly over to me with that cat that ate a canary grin I've only seen on high school guys when they think they got the green light to proceed. When he got right up to me I figured what Mister was looking for was some scratching behind the ears or on the tummy. I reached tentatively at first and just gave him a little scratching before stopping to see if this was indeed what he had been seeking.

He reacted to my pausing by springing his front legs up and landing them smack dab upon my chest, keeping his back feet on the ground and putting his nose close to mine. I'd never seen a cat react like a dog before but knew this was a signal to continue. I reached up and began to scratch behind his ears a little bit harder which made him purr even louder in contentment and use his front paws to knead away at my chest. Had he been one of my dates he would have gotten slapped for this, at least if a first date, but seeing he was a cat I was merely happy that his claws were not extended.

Since I know animals do miss human contact from their owners, even the loners like I thought Mister was, I scratched him for another minute or two until he even lowered his face between his paws on my chest and began to grind his face into my t-shirt as if trying to clean himself. I stood up and let him drop back to the ground. He gave me a look of serious disappointment. "Sorry Mister I just do not see any future in that kind of relationship for us. I hope we can still be friends." I said with a smile pulling one of the old and reliable lines all girls pick up in their teen years. He seemed to pout a bit but did not move as if he was planning on leaving any time soon.

I turned back to my more immediate task of finding a reference for grave dirt as a spell component. I discounted the books that Harry had me read, knowing I would have remembered such a thing if I had perused it before. Instead I decided that I would start on the first shelf and slowly work my way around the room, book by book. It looked to be a long and boring process but I had no better options.

"Meow!" Mister cried still pouting and looking at me.

"Sorry buddy but I have to study." I said. Normally I said I had to wash my hair but I figure I could be honest this time. I slid that volume back and grabbed the next one and began flipping through the pages looking for words like 'grave,' 'dirt,' or earth. I was searching for a needle in a haystack but this is all I had to go on.

"Meow!"

"Look I'm sorry but I do not have time to play." I said a bit more sternly. "I promised Murphy that I would try to find out what someone would steal grave dirt for and I am going to keep my promise. Now since you are not going to likely contribute anything to this endeavor I suggest you go find something else to do with your evening."

Mister's eyes grew a little more serious as if I had insulted him and he raised his hind quarters up like he was intending to spray and mark his territory. I am certain Harry would not appreciate his laboratory smelling like cat pee when he returned so I spun on the cat raising the book I held in my hand threateningly toward him. "Don't you even think about it Mister or you will go down in history as the first cat to supply the entire strings section of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra."

While I am certain, at least somewhat certain, that the cat did not understand my words, perhaps it was my tone or my threatening gesture that stopped him short. Giving me a glower he sauntered forward without even looking at me, passing between the bookshelves and my feet in an act to demonstrate his defiance, and without looking back toward me reached up with one claw and yanked on a rather old looking leather volume and pulled it from the shelf and onto the floor almost making those on either side of it come down as well.

Right after cat pee smells having to tell Harry that Mister used one of his magic tomes for a scratch toy was on my list as something I did not want to have to explain. I rushed toward the cat who scampered off a few feet and then turned to stare at me as if saying he was not actually afraid. I picked up the book and looked quickly at the leather cover to ensure it had not been too terribly damaged by the cat. Thankfully there was not even a hole in the stiff leather from the cat's claw.

I turned the book over and looked at the cover, noting it was a really old book that had been created by an actual scribe rather than a printing press. That meant this was really old and made me even happier that it had not been damaged by the cat or the result would likely be that a young and beautiful apprentice wizard might also be donating body parts to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.

The title of the book appeared to say _Katz Manuscript_ if I could make out the letters correctly. What were the odds of Mister pulling down a volume entitled 'Katz' by accident? I decided to open it up hoping this was my needle that I was seeking.

Unfortunately the entire book after the cover appeared to be written in Hebrew. I recognized the letters from my catechism class a few years ago. But recognizing the letters did not mean I had even the first hint of being able to read what they said. I flipped through the pages just to ensure they were all this way and that the first page had not been some guest author's introduction in Hebrew and the rest in English or like electronic manuals these days, the first half of the book written in Hebrew and the second half an English, or Spanish, translation of the first. Neither of these situations panned out unfortunately so the book was basically useless to me.

However, what did catch my eye was a series of sketches within the work, pictures being fairly rare in many older volumes, which seemed evenly spaced throughout the book almost like they signified chapter or sections. The first seemed to show a man digging a hole by a river. The second seemed to be the man molding clay or some such material into a human like shape. And the third seemed ritualistic in nature and involved inscribing something on the forehead of the created body.

I of course had no idea if what I was holding had any significance at all to what Murphy was looking for. I did know that the Jewish religion, like Christianity, believed God created man from clay of the Earth and breathed life into him. That seemed the most likely explanation for the pictures, especially since the man who is doing all that work had both an elderly and religious look about him. Jewish scholars tended to see God in their own image, so this explanation would make sense.

I looked at my watch and noted it was now getting to be almost nine in the evening. Being that it was a school night I had to get to bed because I promised Harry as part of my agreement for him to train me that I would also finish school. Mom did not have a problem with me staying over at Harry's, providing Harry was not home and I was alone. I think Harry had told her before leaving that he had added wards to his door that repulsed young men away along with other types of less common monsters. I decided though that I would just call her and tell her I would be staying here tonight and be over first thing in the morning to pick up my school books.

Thankfully my potion was finished brewing by now and I could turn the heat off. I immediately poured it into the metal test tubes that Harry kept for such things. They were made of silver rather than iron-based which would have drained away the magic. Why silver instead of more common glass vials you ask? Well if you are a mild mannered wizard and get thrown across a parking lot into a minivan by something mean and nasty and then you realize your potion is the only thing going to save your life, when you reach for it you do not want to find glass shards and a wet spot is all that remains of your last chance.

I left the tubes to cool with two corks and wax awaiting close by to seal them once they reached normal room temperature tomorrow morning, cleaned up the little mess I had made, and then I headed back upstairs. By this time Mister had departed for other pursuits and I was starting to feel a bit tired myself from all the excitement and adventure of this day. I called my mother so she would not worry, thankfully Harry's phone worked for me, and then decided I would camp out on the couch rather than his room. Mom promised to call and make sure I was awake early enough to get home and still get to school. I took the _Katz_ book along and slid it between the legs of the couch so that Mister could not get to it easily, then took off my jeans so I could fall asleep wearing just my t-shirt. With a little bit of luck I would be well rested by the time mom finally called me in the morning. I opened one of Harry's smut paperbacks and turned to the good sections to put my mind on other things than missing graveyard dirt and evil sensitive wizards.

I had slipped into a rather hot dream involving…well that is really none of your business…when the phone rang and shocked me sort of back to semi-consciousness. My body told me there was no way it was five in the morning already so this could not possibly be my mother. My next guess was maybe it was Harry.

The phone rang with its awful warbling sound a second time. Ah yes, in the fifties they did not have enjoyable ringtones I now realized. I stumbled over and grabbed the receiver. "Hello?" I said still not actually conscious enough for communication.

"Thank God Harry you're home." Karrin Murphy's voice sounded relieved at this.

I cleared my throat with a cough. "No Karrin it's me Molly." I said slightly more clearly this time. "Harry is not home yet so I decided to crash here tonight on his couch."

"Damn!" She said in obvious disappointment. "Sorry kid I did not mean that toward you. I'll let you get back to sleep." She started to hang up.

"Wait Karrin, what is it?" I asked.

I could tell she was undecided about revealing anything further to me at the moment, but then after a long pause and a sigh of just a slightly shorter duration, she answered me. "You know that dirt I mentioned to you this afternoon?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Well we found it…or at least some of it." She paused. "It looks like it was used to kill someone."


	4. Chapter 4

**Axis and Allies**

_**Very Early Monday **_

_**Chapter 4**_

It took a lot of convincing, make that pleading, on my part to get Murphy to tell me where the murder had taken place and then agree to allow me to check things out with her. I understand there is a whole contamination of a crime scene thing with the police compounded by the potential liability issue of letting a civilian who had no business at this location trample all around and maybe get hurt in the process. I am fairly certain that liability is only compounded when the person is not even old enough to vote yet.

Her eventually ignoring this combination of issues merely confirmed to me that this case had Murphy near the end of her rope and she was willing to chance another reprimand, the last one having busted her back down to sergeant, in order to get a break on this case. For most people to take such a risk, the people involved had to be friends or loved ones. For Murphy they just needed to be citizens of Chicago whom she was sworn to protect. In fact I know she despised some of the city's residents, like "Gentleman" Johnny Marcone, the biggest crime lord the city had seen since Al Capone, but she would still give her life to protect him even as she tried to bust him because that is just what giving her word meant to her.

I threw some cold water on my face, not that Harry has hot since his water heaters always seemed to explode, and got dressed again, before looking at an old pendulum and weight-based clock to see it was three in the morning. God I did not know there was such a time if you did not stay up all night to get to it. What type of idiot actually chooses to wake up at this hour?

I went down in the basement and sealed my two potions with a cork and wax to bring along. I locked that room up and was grabbing the keys for the Blue Beetle and the front door when I noticed Mister was sitting by it patiently apparently waiting for me to let him out. "You want to go out and get yourself a piece do ya Mister?" I asked with a smile but of course the cat did not say anything. His presence though reminded me, so I reached under the couch and grabbed the Katz book as my last act before leaving and then opened the door to let Mister out.

I had expected him to race off into the night to do whatever it is that cats do but instead he merely sauntered up the stairs in a very slow and deliberate manner, looking at me over his shoulder in impatience as if I was taking too long as I locked the door and reset the magical wards. Then with a slow purposeful pace he made his way right over to the Blue Beetle and sat and waited for me to open the door for him.

Harry had told me of numerous times that Mouse had tagged along on investigations but I could not recall Mister every doing so in any of his stories. Oddly, the very fact he appeared to be trying to do so seemed to me to be very uncat-like in nature for felines in general and Mister in particular. Just to be sure I was not reading this wrong and that he would actually wander off, I walked over and opened the passenger side door. He confirmed what I suspected when he immediately jumped in and made himself comfortable on the front seat while I closed the door and walked around to the other side.

I got in and looked at him one more time as if to ensure to both of us he really wanted to go, but his staring reply seemed irritated as if telling me 'come on, let's get on with it.' Okay, this must be the odd things that happen all the time to people who wake up at three in the morning I reasoned with a foggy mind. The world is just not properly reset until at least five I suspected, so I just accepted this as I started the Beetle and drove over to the north side of town where Murphy had called me from.

The neighborhood I had been directed to was one of those formerly working class sections of town that had slowly deteriorated over time. While probably never glamorous even in its heyday, one could see the blocks in this area once had a firm strong and enduring character having been built of traditional red bricks for the most part. These days the same buildings were dilapidated and consigned not as working class apartments but instead served as a mixture of halfway houses, porn shops, pawn shops, and fortress-like all night liquor stores with more security and bulletproof glass than most banks. Chicago, Chicago you are my kind of town is what the singer said. I guess he was somewhere other than here at the time.

In one of my current senior classes that required so many hours of public service, our teacher had explained that during his hippie commune days of the late 1960s some sociologist determined that neighborhoods like this became rundown because someone broke windows or painted graffiti which was an indication to others that crime was welcome in this neighborhood. As I pulled up along the curb I did not see any signs of these to prove the Broken Window theory was true, but the neon signs reading 'All Live Nude Girls' on the strip club and the 'We Pay Cash for Anything' sign on the nearest pawn shop, there were three on that block alone, seemed to meet this communication requirement that Leave it to Beaver was not going to be filmed here.

I smiled in a twisted way and thought if the club advertised 'All DEAD Nude Girls' instead then I likely would have found my necromancer's hang out without too much trying. Thankfully that was not my final destination for the three police cars with flashing lights seemed to have cordoned off one of the halfway houses as their crime scene. Parking was easy to find so I pulled across the street, left Mister in the car, much to his annoyance, and headed to the uniformed cop standing guard and shooing away drunks, prostitutes, and other three thirty in the morning onlookers at the main entrance.

I walked slowly, my normal sauntering being far too difficult at three-thirty in the morning, over to the officer like I was supposed to be there and announced myself with that tone of resigned boredom you see on cops shows. "I am Molly Carpenter and I was told to come here to see Sergeant Karrin Murphy." I said not hiding how tired I was to allow my presence to appear as a burden rather than my request. My tone, my passive emotion ability, or the fact I knew the ranking officer's name was enough for the young uniformed cop to step aside and direct me to the stairs to the left and up to the third floor. I nodded thanks and then trudged that direction, noting in the lobby there were no signs of closed circuit cameras and that the 'reception desk' for this hotel was behind a bulletproof barrier to rival the liquor stores outside. Yep this was certainly a classy neighborhood.

Three flights of stairs later, thankful I wore my sneakers today instead of heels, I found half a dozen cops standing outside the obvious room where the murder had occurred seemingly await permission to do whatever cops do. Flashes from within told me the crime scene photographer was in the process of taken doing his job while Karrin's voice could easily be made out telling him what to take picture of. The cops look at me but I stayed just far enough away for them to avoid asking me why I was here and did not make eye contact by looking down at the floor. I noted the hallway's carpet did not appear to have been vacuumed much less steam cleaned since, well since forever, so dirt had been well ground into it over the years. My guess is that walking barefoot on it would feel like walking on a beach.

After I heard Karrin say that she had all the pictures she needed I decided I would use my same introduction with the officers standing outside the room that I had downstairs. It seemed to work without question so I waited by leaning up against a wall with my eyes closed while they sent one of their number to go tell Karrin I was here.

"Private eye work exciting enough for you Molly?" Murphy laughed seeing how tired I was. I admit that I did not try to even fake it for her. Harry usually looked exhausted too so I figure I was merely continuing the image for him. Karrin would harass him continuously if I appeared all perky all the time in these situations.

"What type of idiot thinks three in the morning is the right time to kill someone rather than be home asleep in a comfortable bed?" I asked with a pained smiled.

"Coroner thinks from the temperature of the body that the murder actually it happed about midnight." She explained.

"Ah the witching hour." I said as a joke but this made her look more seriously at me. I forgot for a second how serious this case was to her so anything I said related to magic was bound to draw more of a response than I was looking for at the moment.

"Meaning you found something?" Hope was etched plainly upon her face at her question. Damn it, so much for a slip of the lip. I really hated letting her down.

"Maybe." I said explaining the book I had found, glossing over Mister's part in this, but also clarified on my inability to read it.

She pulled her notebook from her pocket, I guess all police detectives carry such things, and flipped to find something she had written sometime earlier. She recopied this on a blank page and tore it from the book to hand to me. "That dead museum guy, his name was Jonathan Rothstein, his grandfather is some sort of head member of his Temple. He can probably read the book for you and tell you if it means anything." I noted the address was in the same part of town my parents lived so I slipped the note into my pocket and promised Sergeant Murphy to head over there after school today. I think the fact that neither of us held out much hope that this book would prove valuable made the delayed timeline acceptable.

The crime scene photographer finished packing up his gear and stepped out and told everyone he had completed his work and that the police could go in to bag and tag evidence or to remove the body. Karrin looked at me. "You sure you really want to do this Molly?" She asked almost compassionately. I merely nodded, afraid my voice might break.

Okay I, like most teens, had seen my share of horror movies growing up so I figured there was little in the room that could scare me if I had lived through a marathon movie date viewing of Chisel I-VII. I mean could any real murderer actually be as twisted as a psychopath who made teenagers caught making out at his drive-in theater chisel off their own body parts to escape? I liked to think not. But of course I was wrong. In real life the human mind finds violent death repulsive not entertaining.

The very first difference that hit me was the smell. Theaters in my neighborhood do not have 'smell-o-vision' to make your experience as real as life, so unless you happen to be on a double date between guys named Nick and Jimmy who decide that a flatulence challenge is required at that time in a nearly silent theater, the odds are you will only have to suffer though the smell of buttered popcorn. By the way, I did not stick around so I am unsure which of the two won, or how boys even judge such things, but I will report there was no second date for either of them.

A dead body, even a recent dead body, does not smell like buttered popcorn either. I'd heard Harry describe scenes where the blood had flowed so much that its metallic scent hung in the air. Thankfully for me there was only a small amount of blood to be had and the body had not been dead long enough, less than four hours at night, to begin to rot and smell. That meant the only thing smells I had to endure were the ones related to how a body releases it bowels upon death. Picture the worst diaper you ever had to change, I have six younger brothers and sisters so I know what I am talking about, and triple the smell and you would know my suffering.

The room itself was decorated in the 1930's German fanatic style. There were not one but two red, white, and black Nazi flags proudly centered on two of the room's four walls. A third wall was mostly a doorway to a small kitchen and a second one to an even smaller bathroom. The last wall had a life-size image of Adolf Hitler stuck to the wall.

Now I knew that such things like sports figures and movie characters had become popular for displaying on living room or bedroom walls. My youndest brother was really into the Transformers and had an Optimus Prime plastered upon his wall while my older brother went for Peyton Manning. The world of both jocks and nerds seemed to have reached the same end state. But even so, really, there were enough people out there wanting one that a Hitler life-sized sticker was seen as a profitable venture by some company?

The only furniture in the room consisted of a small stood on which a seventeen inch television set sat and a well aged padded chair upon which the body was seated. The only other remarkable thing in this room was the mound of dirt, about two cubic feet worth so more than two feet high, piled directly in front of the body.

Murphy watched me closely, maybe looking for the first sign that I was going to be sick or freak out, or maybe from that weird twinkle in her eye she was proud of me for not doing so immediately. To tell the truth the second option seemed more disturbing to me than the first since I did not know how to deal with Murphy acting like my big sister. I tried to be diligent and do what I figured Harry might do and used my eyes and my mind to take in the scene around the corpse and all the key details.

Starting, the victim was twentyish, white, and bald. He was presently shirtless and his body bore numerous tattoos, some professional like the swastika on his right bicep that bore the letters BBC beneath it, and some of the obvious amateur prison variety. All were in keeping with his room decorations, which means to say there were no hearts with "I love Susan" anywhere visible that I could see. Out of the center of his chest was sticking a dagger with a Nazi emblem engraved in the hilt.

"BBC?" I asked Karrin. I seriously doubted that this was the logo for the British Broadcasting Company from cable.

"It stands for Brotherhood of the Bent Cross." Murphy answered. "They are a neo-Nazi street gang that popped up here not so long ago. The group is mostly anarchists with a slice of good old down home racism to add to the mix. We busted them around the periphery of a few near riots but we never even got a weapons charge on them to hold them overnight."

"Enemies?"

"You know any in this crowd on the Good Samaritan list?" She responded dryly. "African American and Jewish groups have been known to take offense at their tattoos, but it has never escalated beyond words as far as the police have seen."

"So nothing to suggest the Brotherhood pissed off the wrong person." I finished.

"Not a bit, though something we are looking into." Murphy finished and I turned back to the scene before me. I focused this time on the dirt, which of course is the reason Murphy had me here in the first place. Did not want her thinking I was a waste of time.

Beyond just the obvious big pile of dirt there was also a huge clot of this same mud on the front of the victims neck and chest, as well as packed tightly into his open mouth and nostrils. When I say packed tight I mean literally smashed as deeply in as kids making mud pies would likely do with a cake pan. By the corpse's blue tint of skin I assumed he had died of asphyxiation related to all the mud in its system. I have always been told death in this manner is a comparatively slow and painful way to go. Obviously whoever, or whatever, had killed him knew that and even perhaps desired that result as well. The dagger, which also had mud on the handle, therefore had been stabbed into the heart only after the victim was already dead which explained the relatively small amount of blood visible on the shirt.

I stepped back and looked at the pile partially coving the victim's feet and lower legs. "This looks like it was dumped here with a wheelbarrow." I said to Murphy.

"Would have to be a pretty sizable one for that amount of dirt and since there is no real cone at the top of the mound like is normal when someone dumps a load of dirt or sand, we do not think it was dumped." She answered in a cop voice.

"No video in the hallway I assume?"

"Have you seen this place?" Karrin asked. "It's the kind of dive where people go to remain nameless and faceless in society. No one asks questions and no one sees anything."

"Like a killer wheeling a couple wheelbarrows full of dirt into the lobby and up the elevator." I said.

"Elevator is broken, surprise surprise, in this high-class establishment, so no they had to lug it up the stairs." She said.

"Okay I agree that certainly screams magic." I said not really having any other answer even though I was not experienced in just what kind of magic it could have been. "Any footprints found in all the dirt?" I asked hopefully.

"Nope." She answered. "And no fingerprints anywhere on the body either."

I turned back and looked more closely at the corpse, away from his face this time and instead at his hands. Like his chest these were muddy too, but the fingertips seemed heavily so, and at least two of his fingernails seemed to have been torn away as well.

Murphy saw my focus and explained. "Those look like serious defensive wounds as if the victim fought off his attacker. There are no signs of blood beneath the nails though with all that mud."

"Okay I admit it." I said at last. "I am completely baffled and have no clue what you are facing."

Murphy reached down and turned the corpses left arm over exposing the underside where a series of letters and numbers had been inscribed, likely with the dagger, based on the size and shape of the cuts. The combination read S 1 3 6 1 1. "These cuts mean anything to you in your world?" Murphy asked me without much hope.

"Actually, 'S' is a supposed mystical letter around the world and if the numbers read 13, 6, and 11 then those too have mystical connections." I answered.

"Or they could be a combination to someone's lunchbox as a kid." Murphy said angry at this case but not at me.

"Sorry Murph." I said trying to apologize.

"One more thing…" She pulled an evidence baggie from a pile and showed it to me. "We found this jotted note of paper that says 'Shertel's magic book, Furher's copy, 505.' Would any of this mean anything to you either?" She asked hopefully.

"I seem to recall someone named Shertel. Obviously the number is a specific page so I will see what I can find out." I lied because I just could not tell her no again. "That will be an easy one for me to track down after class too. Are you going to be at the office tonight if I can find anything out?" I asked hoping it was her day off.

"Yeah, I figure with all the pressure from the Mayor's office on this I will be racking up some overtime." She answered.

"Sorry Murph." Damn it, I said it again anyway.

"Not your fault kid." She waved me off. "I thank you for trying." She said in a tone that let me know our time together was coming to an end once more. "Let me know if these book-things pans out ok?"

I said my goodbyes and made my way back to the Blue Beetle. I just sat down distracted in the driver's seat when I noticed that Mister was not in the car where I had left him and the passenger door was partly opened. Granted we were only a couple miles from Harry's home and I could leave him here, but I still felt responsible to try and find him first.

"Mister?" I called out. "Come back Mister and I promise to scratch your belly." I forgot about the drunks lined up by the crime scene, one of whom must have thought I was speaking to him because he began to stagger my way. Thankfully, at this point the cat bounded down from the fire escape stairway above him and just close enough to the drunk's course as the cat ran toward me to send the wino spinning and make him fall on his ass. Without so much as an acknowledgement to me the cat bounded into the car and back on his front seat. I closed the door and went around to my side ignoring the complaints of the drunk as I started the car and left.

As I drove home trying to plan out my day, Mister immediately rolled over on his back and looked at me expectantly. I assumed this was more of a standard cat thing than actually understanding what I had said, but with Harry's choice in pets one would never know. My recent trip to the nail salon had Mister purring in complete contentment until I pulled up back at Harry's place to let him back in the house.

Mister noted our stop and with resigned eyes waited for me to open the door. Once I did the cat shuttered once, as if flinging water from his fur, looked at me heading toward the door and instead bounded off down the alley. My skillful fingers were not obviously enough so he was on to other pursuits. Since we were back in his neighborhood I did not worry…really…who would mess with a thirty pound house cat?

I made it to my Mom's house just before five when she had promised to call me and got a look of surprise and pleasure that I was showing such responsibility by already being home. I of course did not mention where I had been the last two hours, the fact that part of it was spent staring at a pile of dirt with a bald, dead Nazi in the middle of it. Moms, I have found, do not take these kinds of stories with a grain of salt…more like a truckload. Instead I had a quick plate of the breakfast she was making for the rest of the family before gathering up my books for class.

I did take the time to jot down 'Shertel's magic book, Furher's copy, 505' from the evidence I had been shown as well as all the places I had to go today on the same scrap of paper Murphy had given me. I had to call Ms. Brown and tell her I would be taking the case. I had to take the Katz book over to Grandpa Rothstein for a quick look. I had to find anything I could on this Shertel guy's magic book, preferably a copy so I could look at page 505. And I had a calculus mid-term test. Of that list the test was the one I felt most confident in my abilities would result in success.

"You don't looking like you slept well Molly." Mom said as her eyes appraised me closely as I changed into fresh clothes. Independent or not, I have to admit having someone else do you laundry is way cool.

"Harry's couch is not the most comfortable place to sleep mom." I said keeping her at arm's length emotionally but obviously she still worried and saw me as her little girl. "Really, I will be fine."

Yeah those types of words do not work well on your mother. Thankfully, Harry Carpenter, my youngest brother and named after Harry Dresden, chose that moment to begin crying for his own breakfast. Since that required my mother's presence immediately to keep him from waking up the entire house, she let the conversation go. I meanwhile chose that moment to scoot out the door before she could return.

I passed the hallway mirror and noted the beginnings of dark circles under my eyes. Nothing makeup would not cover up for me, but I realized my mom was telling the truth. I did look tired. "Who knew that detective work meant saying goodbye to a normal night's sleep?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Axis and Allies**

_**Monday Afternoon **_

_**Chapter 5**_

Not surprisingly the calculus test was the easiest part of my day overall. I finished it with time to spare and instead of sticking around for my last two study hall periods I decided to pack it in and try and get help for Murphy as I had promised. The school office secretary was skeptical about my 'doing research' excuse, but when I showed her the Katz manuscript from my backpack and the address of Mr. Rothstein she grudgingly accepted that if I was indeed lying I had at least put in the required effort into my story. She let me sign out and by one in the afternoon I was back in the Blue Beetle heading to the home address Murphy had given me which was just three miles or so away.

The home was in a gated community so I had to identify who I was going to see since my car was slightly on the obvious side. When I gave the name and even before I began any explanation the guard merely nodded and directed me on my way. He said I would be okay for parking on the street until sundown, providing I did not park in the way of those construction vehicles digging out the new community pool on the same block. I told him thank you and followed his directions.

Eventually I parked down the street from my destination, scooting into a spot vacated by the construction foreman working on the pool across the street. He looked at me with irritation until I explained I would be gone in a half hour, which turned out to be less time than he expected to be gone. He also understood because it was the only parking available on the entire block. Everywhere else was jam packed by cars from the fabulously expensive to the supremely efficient. I noticed there were no cars, even those of the workers digging the pool, looking anywhere near as bad as the Blue Beetle. Well at least it would make finding my car easy if I forgot where I parked.

If gated community life is what money can buy then I might try to convince Harry to paint my name on the door soon too. The 'pool' was really two such, one meant to be an indoor and the other an outdoor, and both Olympic-sized or better. The outdoor one so big and deep that the excavator working on this pool, there was one digging out each, was barely visible in the hole because of the giant mounds of dirt and clay around it. Yep, at five hundred a day I think gated community life is right for me.

As I walked toward the address I was given I also noticed that I was not appropriately dressed compared to the handful of others on the street. I quickly noted that to an individual they were wearing their Sunday best, and all the men wearing appropriate headgear for those of the Jewish faith. It took a few moments to put these facts together in my mind but I eventually realized as I had merged inadvertently with the crowd waiting in a receiving line that I was likely attending Jonathan Rothstein's wake. That thought almost stooped me in my tracks, not that the line was moving all that fast to begin with, but I knew that Murphy was counting on me for answers and the book was my only current clue, so I ignored the skeptical stares of those standing nearest to me and stayed in line keeping my ears tuned for what was said so I did not inadvertently insult the family.

"Such a way to die." One mother whispered to her husband. "A boy his age killing himself like that." She trailed off quietly and I could not hear the man's reply.

"I hear the rabbi wears a _keriah_ over his heart too since he was so close to his grandson. A man should not be forced to live such tragedies." Another in line said.

"Well he said to us yesterday that he no longer claims to be a Rabbi." Another responded.

"Let us pray that is the _Shiva_ talking." A third said. "After all he has seen to lose faith now… oy! Better that he is here with his family than down at the museum where he spends all his time with his memories."

To be fair there were other conversations around me to include common greetings and well wished between those in line, discussions of various gifts and foodstuffs carried for the family in their time of grief, and many voiced yet whispered prayers and wishes for the family to make it through these difficult times. While their religion may differ from my own, the humanity that rested behind it was the same.

Eventually I made my way up the sidewalk and toward the front of the line where all the delays seemed to be taking place. I took care to listen carefully to those in front of me and record what the other visitors were doing. Thankfully, by this time those around me had chalked me up as an ex-girlfriend or co-worker coming to pay my respects so I did not have their stares or whispers distracting me. I did not dissuade them of this notion because either story was a far better one than the truth.

I noted a very old man sitting in a rocking chair staring out into the lawn, and a thousand miles away after that. As each mourner climbed the steps they paused by the old man and seemed to wait expectantly for him to address them, but he did not and just continued to stare off into the distance. After a few seconds the mourner continued on into the house pausing only to say something in Hebrew, it appeared to be the same thing each time but of course I did not understand the language.

When my turn finally arrived I made my way up the steps and paused as I was expected to looking at the old man only for a moment before turning away. I noted in that brief glance that his jacket was ripped open above his heart making me wonder if the _keriah_ I heard he wore, whatever that was, had been torn free and if so if the old man even cared? After what I estimated to be an appropriate amount of time I began to move on, not even trying to repeat the Hebrew phrase when he spoke instead.

"Why have you come here girl?" An aged but still strong voice asked me. I turned to see the old man's intense dark and grief-filled eyes regarding me. This was matched by the eyes of everyone else still standing in line. Good job Molly I thought to myself. Not even Harry has ruined a wake in all his cases and right out of the chute you are going to piss off an entire community with your brazen disregard of common courtesy. So the only question was, do I compound it with making up a lie to cover myself also or do I go for the truth and hope he at least respects my honesty?

"Rabbi Rothstein I came here on the request of others to speak to you and to seek your knowledge." I said looking him dead in the eye, neither flinching from his flash of anger at using his title, nor turning away under the weight of so many stares equally hostile coming from behind me.

"Get out of here, can't you see this man is in _Avelut_!" The eldest male of a family of four sons behind me said with undisguised anger and fists slowly clenching. I shook out my shield bracelet and tried to think calming thoughts, hoping the passive side of my powers would aid me in keeping violence, especially directed at me, from breaking out. The father of four's look was growing on many faces in the crowd as well reminding me that anger was stronger in most cases than calming emotions. It was time for a young and perky Molly Carpenter to skedaddle before this became even more of a problem. I was just beginning to make my move beneath the glares of shame when the old man spoke again.

"Do you have a car?" He asked. I looked at him and he regarded me with a strange stare that contained thoughts I could not even begin to guess at. It was like one my mother wore when catching me in a lie but even more intense and focused. Odd of course because to this point I had not lied, only allowed others' false stories about me to go unchallenged.

I was too shocked to do anything more than a single word answer. "Yes." I said.

"Then I need to you drive me." He stood up, slowly, but not nearly as wobbly as his years might have suggested. He had no cane or anything to steady him so I offered my arm. He scowled at first until he saw I did not mean it in a patronizing way before finally accepting it.

"Rabbi Rothstein you can't…" The same father of four raised his hand gently to try and stop this man but the fire in the more senior elder's eyes held him back from actually laying his hand upon him.

The rabbi's eyes went from hot to the icy cold of deadly seriousness. It was so intense that I felt a prickly sensation from this just by having him resting upon my arm. "Since the 27th of January in the year of 1945 when the Russians liberated me from Auschwitz I have allowed no man to dare to tell me what I can and cannot do! If I survived a death camp and Russian reeducation then Isaac you would do well not to think you have any say over my life." He said in a tone that brooked no interference. "And I am no longer a Rabbi so do not call me that title."

His words and tone was enough to silence not only this family but everyone else standing further back in the line as well. As I walked him down the concrete path, people moved onto the grass to allow us to pass, but no one dared to raise their eyes to look at the rabbi. From his soft almost inaudible chuckles and accompanying shakes I knew he was entertained at this display of his power by cowing those around him.

We walked slowly down the street, he choosing not to say anything further to me at the moment and I was not willing to start a conversation myself until we were out of the gazes of the others. It took us more than three times as long to make this return trip as it had for me to walk alone but eventually we were standing before my car.

"This is your car?' The old man asked with a tone of absolute incredulity as he stared at it and then back at me.

"I know it does not look like much, but…" I began now feeling even more embarrassed.

"It's not the look of the car." He said. "You are young and had to likely buy it yourself so I do not begrudge you for working and buying something yourself rather than relying on your family to do it for you as so many I know of your generation would have." He said making me momentarily happy in comparison even if the car was not actually technically mine. "My issue is the type of car."

I looked at him in complete confusion as I thought through what was insulting about a Blue Beetle? "You have some problem with cars name after insects?" I asked.

"It's a Volkswagen." He said with strained patience. I guess my face showed I still did not understand even though I knew he was correct.

"Children!" He said looking to the sky for deliverance or patience. My mom often made the same sort of gestures, right before the yelling would begin. "The Volkswagen, this type of model, was first made in the 1930s in Germany. It means 'The People's Car' in German." He said as I patiently listened. "And it was considered the engineering marvel of Nazi ingenuity. The first one was even presented to Adolf Hitler as a birthday present!"

Well I guess THAT explained what I was missing. I had never thought about it before. I just thought of them as little egg-shaped cars that seemed to run forever. "So I guess you don't want a ride after all?" I asked hoping he was not too mad. Having seen him render more than a dozen people he likely knew and respected speechless I did not want that same stare leveled at me. Again I wondered if I would need my shield bracelet.

"It is a testimony to my faith and righteousness of my actions that I will not let this sway me from my chosen course." He said to no one in particular, certainly not to me, before opening the door of the Blue Beetle and slowly getting into the passenger seat. I immediately walked around to the other side, sat behind the wheel, and started the car.

I waited expectantly with the engine running but not willing to say anything at first. Mr. Rothstein was once more off on his own thoughts so I just sat there for few minutes until finally I had to speak. "Uh..Rab..I mean sir…I need to know where you want to go." I explained.

He did not immediately turn to look at me but I saw his lips moving as if he were praying. I waited, feeling more uncomfortable as the time passed, until finally he spoke. "Do you know where the United States Holocaust Memorial is?" He asked me with a look that conveyed all to readily that he expected I would not.

"There are three Holocaust Museums in the Chicago area, but I am assuming you are talking the one up in Highland Park?" I said. While I may have been raised in a Catholic private school, in my junior year of high school the nuns took us on a fieldtrip to this museum. I remember it because from the moment they got off the bus until we stepped back on, not one of the nuns would speak a word. At first we kids did not understand the reason for their silence. But as we passed each photo, more and more of us caught on to the tragedy this building had been erected to prevent us from ever forgetting. The silence of the nuns was soon silence of the students as well, not just until we were back on the bus, but until they dropped us off back at school.

He looked amazed that I was this familiar with the subject and merely nodded his own head in response. I figure this was not a man easily rendered speechless so I took this as a good thing while he seemed to silently be reevaluating his initial judgments of me. Finally, in a more conversational and less confrontational tone he spoke. "You need must be great if you willingly stood in a mourning line to speak with me." He said. "I thought first you were just ignorant of proper respect so brazenly ignored convention and disturbed _Avelut_ without caring Miss…"

"Molly Carpenter." I answered. "Just call me Molly. And in truth I did not understand at first that I had arrived at a bad time. But as you say my needs are such that I was willing to seek you out at a wake…"

"We call it Sitting _Shiva_…" He now interrupted me. "A 'wake' is a term for you of the Christian faith, Catholic I assume?" He said nodding to my necklace with the cross that hung visible once more from around my neck. I merely nodded in return to allow him to proceed.

"Thank you for the honor of your name Molly. You may call me Ishmael. While you in the Christian faith have a wake for a few hours or a day at most and then grieve in silence, we of the Jewish faith do so slightly differently." He explained reminding me that Rabbi meant 'teacher' so while he may not accept the title his patterns of speech were too ingrained to have changed. "After the loss of a loved one we of the faith enter _Avelut_, the period of mourning, where we grieve for our loss. This period can last a month or even much longer. If the deceased is someone elderly like myself and those around can see the end is approaching, they are often prepared for it and the period is therefore shorter in duration even though they are loved no less." He stopped before making the comparison he had been leading toward as if its applicability suddenly struck him hard.

I realized the comparison for unexpected deaths would likely be longer and since this is what he faced and described his own grief I tried to save him this explanation. "You said _Avelut_ just now, but before you said Sitting _Shiva_. Are these two terms for the same thing?" I asked hoping to distract him by allowing him to perform more teaching as he was obviously used to.

My question seemed to break Ishmael away from his musings for the moment and his eyes showed me that he understood the real reason behind my question and appreciated this kindness. I could only occasionally glance in his direction because I had to maneuver through traffic to get on the right road to head up to the Highland Park suburb. It was a little over ten miles or so away, but with city traffic would likely take us an hour to get there.

"Sitting _Shiva_ is merely the first week of _Avelut_." He explained on. "While the family grieves those with ties to the family come by to offer their support, kind words, and assistance with cooking meals and such things. Personally I almost envy you Catholics in this. I would prefer to be left alone to my own thoughts rather than having so many hover about me."

"This is the reason why you asked me to drive you to the museum instead of someone else." I said. "They would be breaking Jewish tradition so not willing to do it, but as an outsider I would not know the faux pas I was making." I said with a hint of anger at being manipulated and made to look foolish. But hey, in truth I did this to myself by stepping into this environment so I could not blame him for taking such an opportunity when it presented itself.

"That is true." He merely replied letting me stew over this.

We drove through three more long duration traffic lights in silence between us until I figured I would close out the subject completely. "While I waited I heard one of the others say you were wearing a _keriah_ over your heart. Did you remove it?"

He looked at me askew then shook his head. "A _keriah_ is a tear in the fabric of the shirt of coat you wear. It symbolizes the loss and pain one feels in the heart for the deceased. Parents wear theirs over the heart while siblings and other relations wear it on the right side of the chest." He explained still looking out the window.

I let my eyes glance quickly over at the old man and then back to the road. The brake lights of the person in front of me kept going on and off like someone signaling in Morse Code so I had to concentrate primarily on the road so as not to get into an accident. "You must have been pretty close to Jonathan to wear it over your heart." I said softly and in sympathy.

"It was a necessary thing." He said without explaining the contradiction any further.

We drove another two blocks in silence until, thankfully, Ms. Morse Code turned off and I was a little freer in my ability to talk and try and distract my companion in the car. "What was that thing that everyone said to you as they walked past?" I asked to distract him once more from his dark, grieving thoughts and into the here and now.

He repeated the phrase that I will not even try to say because I'm not sure there are letters in the English language for some of the sounds. "It means roughly 'May God comfort you among the Jewish peoples.'" He translated. "I have been offered this statement far too many times in my life so it no longer has any meaning or provides any comfort for me." He said offering a finality of tone that said this subject had reached its limits.

We drove in silence now for another mile or two. I could not come up with any way of broaching the original subject that had brought me to his house in the first placed that would not compound the awkwardness of the present situation that I was feeling. And while my desperation level was increasing as we got closer and closer to the museum with every mile, the two emotions were not yet in balance enough for me to speak. Thankfully the old man seemed to desire stopping his own musings or grief and started the very conversation I wanted to have on his own.

"You said you came on behalf of others seeking my knowledge." He repeated my early claim. "What can an old Jew do for a young Catholic girl?" He asked.

I kept my eyes on the road but reached between us to the backseat with my right hand and fumbled in my backpack until I put my hands on the right book. I could tell it was not one of my textbooks by its soft, leather cover. Between the cramped compartment of the car, not wanting to smack the old man in the face with a misplace elbow, and the weight of the book itself it took me a minute or more to pull this tome free and set the book on his lap.

"I work with the police on occasion doing research." I said. Okay this was technically true if you allow that this was my first 'on occasion' but that I hoped to do well enough to continue to do so when required. "I need to know what this book is talking about." I said.

"You do research for the police?" He asked skeptically. "What type of expertise do you have at your age that they require?"

Harry always called this the 'moment of truth' time. When someone asked you what you did and you replied with 'I'm a wizard' you were likely to get one of a few predisposed responses. There was the 'Oh that's nice' which was delivered in a tone much like you grandmother's response to you saying had seen a butterfly recently. What they really meant was the person thought you were nuts as they subconsciously and physically put a little more distance between you two.

Then there was the basic 'Get thee behind me Satan' variants which were usually accompanied by looks that made me feel I was covered in animal droppings. The bright side was conversations of this sort usually ended quickly. The bad side they sometimes were followed by the grabbing of pitchforks and torches.

Then there was the third 'Cool, cast a spell for me' response that came from watching too much television as a sole reference source. Of the three I suspected the first was likely to be the one grandpa Ishmael Rothstein offered me. Having him say the third I figured was just a bit too disturbing to contemplate without laughing, which I did not figure was productive in this case.

Well, time to go for broke. "I'm a wizard." I said. "I provide them insight on things that may have a mystical connection."

"You seem a little young for the White Council to have accepted this level of public acknowledgement of your powers." He said still skeptically but his observation of things rarely known outside our circles set me completely back on my heels, figuratively of course since I was driving. "Or are you a warlock working outside the established rules?"

"You know of the White Council?" I said in shock. Normal human with the knowledge such a body existed were few and far between. In fact, I had heard some with this knowledge had been relieved of this burden. The more obvious answer was that Mr. Rothstein was actually a wizard himself.

"At my age child I know of many things most others do not." He said alleviating my fears without even looking at the book I had handed him yet. "And no I am not a wizard myself in case you wondered." He answered my unspoken question as if he could read it on my face. "I am merely a man of faith though I have had encounters, both good and bad, with others of your kind in the past." He explained.

"I am a wizard under the jurisdiction of the White Council." I said acknowledging I was not a rogue. I had no desire to explain that I was not only under their jurisdiction but currently also serving under the Doom of Damocles from them as well. Some things just did not need to be shared. "Providing a wizard abides by the Laws of Magic the White Council accepts them providing assistance to the local authorities on magical subjects." The fact that they accepted Harry doing so in no way guaranteed they would accept me doing the same but there was no need to cloud this issue at the moment with such trivial and counterproductive facts.

"And what is this potentially magical issue that you are dealing with that somehow may require my services?" He asked.

Okay, explaining that honestly would be awkward based upon his connection to these events and his own obvious mourning. But by the same token these might be the incentive to help me if he knew anything else on the subject beyond what I was asking. Once more I figured honesty remained my best course.

"I know this is a painful subject but I am assuming the police notified you of the stolen dirt from your grandson's grave." I said looking at him just long enough to see him stiffen up at my comment before I had to return my attention to having to watch the road again. It seemed Ms. Morse Code's brother, Mr. I Never Turn Off My Directional, was in front of me now so I had to stay alert to if he really planned on turning. "The police want to know if some sort of magical purpose was behind the theft."

He sat quietly for a long time. "What do you think this means? Was it magic or vandalism?" He asked obviously distraught by the subject. I understood it was bad enough to lose a family member. To have their son's grave disturbed right after burial was adding insult to the family's grief.

"It is not any part of a spell I am familiar with." I said honestly. "But these events taking place in a graveyard it speaks of the possibility of necromancy." He looked at me suddenly, not enraged as I would have expected, but rather as if my words had hurt him even further.

"Necromancers deal with the dead, making zombies, human sacrifices, all that type of thing." I explained. "So graveyard dirt from a fresh grave may have some useful purpose to them that I do not understand. Since necromancy is forbidden by the White Council I need to know if such things are taking place so I can put a stop it." I explain. Okay, truth being told I was not up to taking on a necromancer in direct comment but I could inform the White Council, or even go directly to Carlos Ramirez who served on the Wardens, the White Council's enforcers, and turn the problem over to them completely. This would demonstrate my willingness to abide by Council law and keep my lovely features undamaged in the process. It's one of those lessons I could pass along to Harry if he was not too thickheaded.

"I am familiar with the subject of necromancers." Mr. Rothstein replied. "Do you know why they sacrifice the living?" He asked me.

"I never really thought about it." I answered quite honestly. "It is magic forbidden by the White Council so therefore not an area I ever had interest in exploring. I suspect they use the life to fuel a spell just like I can draw upon magic from the world around me."

"How long can you hold the magic?"

"While I draw it in I can hold it for as long as my will do to so does not waiver." I said not wanting to explain as a novice that was not a particularly long period of time for most things with the exception of some spells that came naturally to me like veils. Those outside of my expertise, combat spells and shields for example, lasted nowhere near as long.

"But what if you need to hold it longer than that…for days for example…or while you sleep?" He asked.

"Depending upon the spell you use materials that can contain the magic until it is released." I said raising my arm and shaking out my shield charm bracelet. "For example each of these charms holds a shield spell that I can call upon for a quick defense against most things."

"And these charms or foci, they can hold this charge of magic forever?" He asked.

"Not forever." I replied. "They can last a while before the magic fades or leaks away and you have to recharge them. In part it has to do with the materials it is made from, and in part is has to do with leaking back into the natural state of the world around us."

"You said you are Catholic correct?" He said changing the subject and surprising me in the process.

"Yes I am."

"Then you understand the concept of the soul, correct?"

"Yes, it is your immortal essence. It is the spark of life and the connection of the divine in all human beings." I hoped this was not going to devolve into a catechism class.

"Exactly!" He said. "This means a soul never fades away over time. It just lingers wherever it lies until it is released to its final existence. Such is often described as the existence of ghosts and other such things." He explained. "Necromancers use that power to fuel their spells. And the stronger the soul they sacrifice, meaning the more faithful or the more innocent, the stronger this spark they have at their command. That is why the idea of 'sacrificing virgins' came about because they are innocent souls and therefore a powerful source of power."

I blushed a bit at this description strictly for personal reasons and then tried to turn the subject around to a safer area. "How do you know so much about this? It seems pretty detailed for an observer." I asked.

"A rabbi is a teacher." He explained again. "Understanding the human soul and all that entails is, I mean was, my job." He turned away in obvious discomfort at this admission.

"But you are not anymore…" I left that hanging out there.

"No. Not anymore."

We drove in silence for a few more blocks before Mr. Rothstein flipped the book over and read the cover. "This is the _Katz Manuscript_!" He said with shock in his voice.

"I know. But I am unable to read it. I had been hoping you can tell me what it says after looking at it, but it sounds from your identification of it that you are familiar with its contents already." I paused as he stared at me while rubbing his hands over the cover. "Could it have anything to do with or help provide insight about what occurred with your grandson's grave?"

"I will answer your question but first, where did you get such a rare book?" He asked. "This is a by hand copy printing of the original work. Scholars believe there are at best less than a dozen of these ever produced. This copy would be worth a fortune to most Jewish scholars for that very reason alone if you ever choose to sell it."

"The book actually belongs to my master." I said honestly. "He has a collection of such magical works for his own references. I used them to look for answers for the police and when I saw the pictures within of the rabbi digging dirt and making a human figure and thought it might provide insightful to the case I was working on. But of course I could not read it."

He caressed the book longingly one more time and he nodded at my answer. "You are correct I am familiar with this work, though I only had a third or fourth generation copy rather than a first like you have." He did not seem willing to even open it rather just rocked slowly holding it tight against his chest as he mouthed a prayer of some sort in Hebrew it seemed. Finally he handed it back to me. "I am sorry Molly. I am truly sorry. This book will not help you find what you are seeking."

I took the book from him and laid it carefully back on my backpack in the back seat since I now had an idea how valuable it was. To think I had slung it around all day in my backpack. "Then those pictures I saw represented how God created man from clay?" I asked showing I knew of this subject.

"Yes, that is the essence of the story they tell." He said looking out the window as the final miles or so was passing by.

"Sir, with all your knowledge, is there anything you can tell me that could help with this case?" I asked. He seemed uncertain as if debating the issue in his mind. I had tried to play to his human compassion and I even admit I offered some passive feelings to enhance removing this reluctance from him. I could tell he suspected something was taking place with the grave dirt, but he was still unsure what, if anything, to say. "Ishmael, we think one person has been killed already because of this magic. If we can save the lives of others…" But my words seemed to work counter to my own goals just as some sort of event taking place outside the museum drew my attention away from him and dispersed my passive effects.

I could see that a crowd stood milling around the building and a fair number of police cars and officers obviously did as well. The law enforcement officials seemed to be in the process of forming some sort or perimeter while a local television camera crew began setting up for televising what was taking place. I could feel building tensions even from this far away. But the most dominant feature was the red, white, and black flag flapping defiantly before the museum's doors. The flag displayed an identical Nazi swastika as those that had been hanging on the walls of the apartment I had seen last night.

"Do not speak to me about the life of some Nazi bastard." He said staring out the window in undisguised hatred. "They took my family from me. I will shed no tears for their kind."

I pulled into a spot behind the television station van and even before I had come to a full stop Mr. Rothstein was already out of my car and walking briskly, his rage seemingly having overcome his age, straight for the flag waving group. I turned the car off and jumped out trying to catch up to him before he did anything foolish…but it seemed foolish was in full bloom in Chicago that day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Axis and Allies**

_**Monday Late Afternoon **_

_**Chapter 6**_

As I finally got the Blue Beetle parked, turned the engine off, and engaged the emergency brake, because the Beetle had a tendency to roll forward or backward if this was not done, I realized that Ishmael was already a dozen yards ahead of me. This head start only increased when I tried to exit the car before disengaging my seatbelt and got pulled right back down into the bucket seat once more. I reached down and popped off the belt and successfully then got out of the car in time to see Mr. Rothstein reach the back edges of the crowd near a woman with her two little children in tow. I took off in hot pursuit for where he merged with the crowd.

Did you ever catch something out of the corner of your eye that registers on your subconscious even before you recognize what it is you are seeing? This is what happened to me as I was in my hurried pace. My eyes saw a face in the crowd and it made my mind ordered me to slow and look closer. Ishmael was already making his way through the crowd, but having to move much slower so I was not worried about not being able to catch up to him.

I turned my full attention back to where I thought I had seen something, expecting perhaps to see a familiar face. I knew quite a few people and had a pretty good eye for faces so this was not an uncommon situation for me when I was in a crowd. But when I was able to focus more fully on the doorway back away from the crowd I realized that this was not the situation that actually awaited me.

Were I a poet or a song writer I might try to make some claim that I experienced love at first sight. I mean, really, the guy was just all over hot! He looked to be about my age, golden tanned, had blonde hair, and eyes of blue ice. He stood about six foot two, which was perfect for me if I was wearing heels, and while he was dressed casually in a dark blue polo shirt with some sort of logo on it that I could not make out and khaki slacks. I could also see he was well toned and athletic.

He did not have the ethereal beauty quality that Thomas exuded and which I understood made his too beautiful to be human. Nor did he have that cocky and appealing boyish good looks and suave ways of Harry's friend Carlos. This stranger's charm lay somewhere in between these two and was, for lack of a better term, yummy!

Based upon the Laws of Magic I understand that it would be considered wrong to use my powers to make him my willing love slave, but it really took a lot of convincing and images of swords cutting off my head to finally drive the idea from my mind. Actually that is an overstatement. Instead I merely put in a closet in my mind where I could take the thought out later when I wanted to smile and play with it.

I shook off this daydream and was almost embarrassed to see that Mr. Hottie was looking at me with both confused recognition and the hints of the same hunger I was feeling myself. My feet kept walking in the direction of Ishmael had been headed but my eyes stayed locked on this mysterious guy who I wanted to meet. That was until I was drawn out of my thoughts by an elderly voice.

"Excuse me frauline but did I see you arrive with Rabbi Rothstein?" He said without so much by way of an introduction. "Are you perhaps a friend of his?"

I turned my eyes, reluctantly from Mr. Hottie, and to a man who could not be more opposite in a purely physical sense. He was old, probably about as old as Ishmael give or take a few years, but this newcomer looked already a step and a half in his grave. In addition to his age he was also bald, overweight, and missing more than a few teeth. His skin had a pallid tone with proclaimed liver spots on the parts exposed and especially his hairless head. He was certainly not as much fun to look at.

I gave one last look toward the doorway where Mr. Hottie had been standing only to see him walking away without a glance back in my direction. Oh well, ships crossing in the night I guess. I turned back and stopped to give my full attention to this newcomer who waited for my answer. "I drove Mr. Rothstein here today." I admitted. "I do not know if that qualifies us as friends but we certainly talked."

"Please, my name is Heinrich Hummel and I must speak with him." He said with a look of pleading. "It is absolutely vital that I do so as soon as possible. Today would be the best but it must be within the next week!" He said with undisguised urgency.

"I assume it is a matter of life and death?" I asked.

"No…just death." He answered drawing me up short and put on guard by such an odd and foreboding answer.

Necromancer! The thought screamed in my head. Talking about death and surely looking like he could belong in a grave himself. Was this the one responsible for the missing grave dirt? There are of course ways for a wizard to identify another with the gift of magic. Shaking hands can do it, though this is a two-way information flow and I certainly did not want to reveal myself if the potential for battle with him existed.

Another option is wizard sight. It's a way of focusing your eyes to recognize magic around you, either spells having recently been cast, or objects enchanted like my shield bracelet. A necromancer lived, or un-lived depending on their power level, beyond the Laws of Magic. Since that could put an army of Wardens at their doorstep at any moment, those wishing to survive would almost certainly carry similar offensive and defense tools for use in an emergency. My sight would tell me this if I could keep him from noticing my examination long enough to catch a quick peek.

"You said your name is Heinrich Hummel?" I asked to which he nodded immediately in response. "What do you mean it is a matter only of death?" I asked trying to put a skeptical look on my face as I prepared to open my eyes to magical sight. But today seemed to be one of those times where things were not meant to go as I planned.

I registered the click of high heels over the noise of the crowd only a moment before the next speaker arrived. "Excuse me but I am Elizabeth Martin of WJIM news and I wondered if either of you cared to share your thoughts on this protest against the Holocaust Museum?" I turned to this newcomer only to be blinded by a shoulder mounted camera with a spotlight shining in my face. This caused spots to momentarily dance before my eyes until I could finally make out the woman who had asked the question.

She was of course beautiful as well, being an on the scene reported for a television station that was more or less a requirement, but with one glance I could see there was a brain behind that beauty too, something I figured all too rare based on those who talked from the anchor desk. I could see she looked bored with thus assignment but would do as she had been told and try and get a story anyway. Obviously she saw station WJIM as merely a stepping stone to a national network and the drive in her eyes did not make me doubt she would achieve this dream given the chance. None of this, of course mattered as far as the hanging question was concerned.

"Well I think that…" I just started to respond when I was shouted down by one of the protestors holding a bullhorn. Did I mention that nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, was currently going my way? Whatever bad karma flow I was standing in it certainly was pulling me right along and there was nothing I could do about it.

"It is time for you people to open your eyes and to expose the Holocaust as the lie it is." A voice filled with undisguised and unapologetic hatred called out on an electric bullhorn to a crowd who appeared generally unreceptive to the comment. For the most part the crowd seemed to be made up of tourists coming to the museum with some office workers and laborers thrown in who noticed the building crowd and had come over to see what all the excitement was about. They were people wrapped up in their own lives, not ones seeking to hear someone else's political agenda.

From my vantage point behind the crowd I could just barely make out the speaker standing up on the stairs of the memorial. He looked like a picture from a history book, bald headed, wearing the black and silver uniform of a Nazi, and with his swastika flag held by another flapping proudly behind him. "The Jewish conspiracy to claim victimhood has allowed them to commit atrocities around the world and claim themselves as the ones to suffer. Their lies…"

A roar of shouts of denial from the crowd, orders to shut up, and a few personal attacks with words like 'Hatemonger' made the next words spoken over the bullhorn unintelligible and cause the speaker to stop temporarily. Being sensitive to emotions I could feel the anger in the crowd building and even feeding upon itself. Every time the black uniformed protestor tried to speak, shouts and cries from the crowd, many that were now becoming personally insulting and offensive, kept his words from being heard.

For his part, his own rage at this treatment showed by the reddening of his cheeks but eventually he acknowledged the inevitable and was forced to surrender the bullhorn to a suit wearing gentleman who came up from behind him and asked for it. The original speaker went to join three other similar uniformed individuals who patted the first on the back for his attempt while the suit wearer got ready to obviously speak. The crowd quieted down some, waiting to see what was going to be said next.

"No! No! You must stop this! Stop this right now!" The old man Heinrich Hummel who had first confronted me now seemed to have forgotten all about me as he walked straight toward the crowd. "Please, you must not let this happen here."

"Quick, get the old man on camera." Beth directed her camera man, this thankfully pulled the spotlight off of me and he instead began tracking the pudgy old guy as he too headed directly into the crowd, nearly next to the same woman and two young kids where Ishmael had also disappeared. I once more took off in pursuit, wondering how I had become an unwitting caretaker to a pair of passionate old men in just a single afternoon. Harry had never described this sort of thing to me in any of his 'this is what can happen if you are not careful' stories. If he turned out to be a necromancer, I needed to be as close as I could if I had any hope of stopping him. "Stop this at once!" The old man screamed one more time but he was drowned out by the once more growing counter protests coming from the crowd.

For their own part, the half dozen police standing as a barrier between the Nazis and the crowd were now forming up in a line and drawing their batons. They seemed ready, if reluctant, to protect the foursome behind them from the angering crowd.

"People, my clients are executing their First Amendment rights to free speech." The Nazis' well dressed lawyer spoke into the bullhorn at one lull in the crowd's cries. He also timed this perfectly once he saw the camera crew had also turned in his direction. Of course the camera man having lost Heinrich in the crowd now stayed focused on the lawyer as this was now developing into something worthy for playing on the six o'clock local news. "This country was built on protecting this freedom so that all opinions can be heard, not just those that are popular."

"Leech!" Someone from the crowd shouted. "Bloodsucker!" I guess some in the crowd found the lawyer almost as offensive as his clients. Things were quickly escalating out of hand. I only hoped the police would step in and calm things down.

"Just because my client's opinions are not politically correct in your way of thinking, they are still as entitled to them as you are to yours." The lawyer calmly replied and played to the camera which just enraged the crowd even more. By this point I had reached the back of the crowd as well. I started to lose sight of what was going on up front because of those taller than me block my vision as I moved back and forth trying to weave through them and find either of the two old men.

"Go back to Germany!" Some woman yelled. By this time I had only moved past the woman with her two kids and was trying to push my own way through the crowd toward where both Heinrich and Ishmael had disappeared from my view. Now immersed within it I could feel the mob's anger bubbling over. As I looked for an opening forward, that did not seem to be there, I tried to focus part of my own mind on pleasant thoughts and push this feeling outward to try and bring some sense of calm. Those closest to me seemed to relax somewhat and take a deep breath but this effect lessened noticeably just a few rows further forward.

"In Germany they respect a person's rights to express their viewpoints." The lawyer said smugly noting how his every word was being recorded. He likely was counting the dollars his new rates for media exposure would bring him. If he got lucky he might even get interviewed nationally.

As I walked around a rather fat and tall guy wearing a tool belt and a t-shirt that proclaimed him a Chippendale's exotic dancer I could hear a moment of scuffling and reverb as the bullhorn was taken forcibly away from the lawyer. I could not see what had happened but could feel the crowd registered momentary confusion.

"I do not know what is worse." The all too familiar voice of Ishmael Rothstein spoke clearly in the microphone. "Those like you willing to sell your morals, or those like your clients who have none at all." He said as I maneuvered past the large guy in front of me and could finally see something of what was going on up at the front of the crowd. This was the last good observation point I was likely to get so I stopped momentarily to try and figure out my best course of action.

Ishmael stood confronting the lawyer who was not even half his confronter's age and dramatically rubbed his arm like he had been injured in this scuffle. I was not buying that the ninety year old rabbi had injured the lawyer, but in the latter's line of work, a possible injury could mean a potential financial settlement. He seemed to smile while the old man had to deal directly with the two police officers who had come to his rescue.

Ishmael for his part was not backing down from either of the two officers, the same ones Murphy had go help Mike yesterday after she had rang his bell. The two were asking Ishmael nicely yet forcefully to return the bullhorn to the lawyer before this progressed any further. Mr. Rothstein refused to do it, partly due to the crowd members now shouting their support for his defiance of authority and partly because the old man did not do well with authority figures. I understand that feeling so I recognize it in others. For their part neither officer seemed to really want the bullhorn so their demands were less than as forceful as they could have been.

I noted Heinrich had been similarly blocked from advancing about fifteen or so feet from me. His course had actually left him on the fringes of the crowd even further back than myself, so I was no split on where my course should take me. If Heinrich was a necromancer, having him behind me was not good, but if he was just an old, creepy guy, then I needed to get up to Ishmael whom I felt responsible for.

For their part the Nazi guys were huddled together back away from the crowd and almost in the very entryway to the Holocaust museum itself. They had one of the other police officers near them, but as the four were showing no signs of violence and instead merely clustered together talking the cop had his eyes trained mostly on the angry crowd where trouble would likely begin. That was of course only if I was unable to do anything.

Many of Harry's lessons for me to date had been instructing me on how to concentrate fully on what I wanted to do by blocking out the sounds of things around me that might otherwise distract me. I called on all of this training now and closed my eyes and tried to focus my will. Immediately, I could feel the magic flowing, feeling how it permeated everything like an invisible ocean, moving gently yet powerfully around me. I let my own senses go and was carried away on the feeling now becoming familiar through my training.

For most magic spells, especially the kinds that Harry is so good at, the wizard uses their will to grab hold of part of this ocean and form it into the shape he or she wants before releasing it. The results are a lance of flame, a bolt of electricity, or some such effect that bursts visibly into the real world, and then fades back to the ocean of magic it came from. In that sense magic is like water, it can take various forms for various periods of time, but never seems to be used up.

My kind of magic, the sensitive type, works along a different principle. Instead of me molding the magic to my will, my spells work more like a dye dropped into this same ocean. For example, a veil spell for me is like a clear dye that spreads to the magic around me and then obscures me from the senses of those nearby. I still exist of course; the magic merely camouflages me in a way most animals and other beings are unable to perceive. Now with my eyes closed and my concentration established to let me 'feel' this ocean I dropped a new dye into the mix.

The Third Law of Magic says "Thou Shall Not Invade the Mind of Another." It was this law that I violated when I entered the minds of two of my friends and cured them of the addiction to the drugs they were taking. While I saw what I was doing as a good act, there can be no doubt that I violated this law. The fact that I did not know the law even existed when I did so also does not change or mitigate the fact that I did indeed break the law. Harry says he is proud of me for being able to understand this and accept my responsibility. Of course I regularly point out that the Doom of Damocles hanging above our heads is a great motivator for such enlightenment.

What I still have trouble with is seeing how my actions were wrong even if they were illegal. Okay on a general principle being able to subject a person's will under my own amounts to a magical form of slavery. When I entered into their minds I now know I could have done many things. I could easily have made them commit crimes or do harm to themselves or others. I admit this type of magic certainly allows for the potential to destroy an individual's free will. But even with all that power and ability at my command, all I merely did was make them stop doing something self destructive. I did not cause them harm for my own personal gain but rather for theirs. Where is the wrong in that?

If I heard one of the two of them was going to commit suicide I could have called the police and had them placed under observation for at least twenty-four hours. In fact, not doing so might make me liable. But since their chosen form of suicide was prolonged and forced those of us who loved them to watch them die slowly over the months rather than all at once, I am not allowed by the law to step in. If I am supposed to do as the Church says and love my neighbor as I love myself, and treat my body like a temple, how could I remain true to my faith and just stand by and do nothing when it was in my power to act to save those whom I love? And if I accept that God gave me this power, since he has control over everything, then how was it a sin to save the lives of two of his other children? Harry has taught me to see things in a new light during the past months under his training, but these answers still elude me.

The First Law of Magic is "Thou Shall Not Kill by Use of Magic." While it may seem black and white upon its face, like similar laws in the real world, there are mitigating circumstances such as death caused in self-defense, or deaths caused unintentionally. But the vagary of this law's implementation is the basis on how I view and wield my powers and still not violate the Third Law of Magic I am sworn to honor.

I focused my will and perception upon the harmony of the magic around me. Its rolling yet almost pattered pace was as relaxing as sitting upon a beach and watching the waves and breakers crash upon the sand. I let this feeling carry me away, like a cork bobbing upon these waves and as I found peace I opened up my own emotions and let them flow outward around me unrestrained by my will.

The technical aspect of the Third Law is that I may not force my will upon another and this action avoided me doing so. Instead of demanding others around me submit, I merely offered an emotional option and suggestion that peace and stepping back from confrontation was a more reasonable course of action. And with my concentration firmly established on the ebb and flow of the magic surrounding me rather than searching the crowd I was able to push these feelings out significantly farther than when I had try to do so while still trying to needle my way through.

Anger is a hard and strong emotion and it builds up defensive walls in the minds of some. Sometimes these walls are even mightier than those of a mortal castle if the hatred has become ingrained to that person's way of thinking over a prolonged period of time. Thankfully I was not dealing with that in the crowd because this had been an unexpected event rather than a preplanned one. So instead of taking these emotions on directly in confrontation, my magic broke gently upon these barriers in successive waves, flowing around the walls of anger, eroding their strength with each successive wave, and even being absorbed into the foundation these wall were built upon. While I floated there in harmony I felt these strongholds of discord in the people around me weakening over time.

I floated along much like the cork I pictured myself to be when suddenly the water was simply gone! Being Catholic and having attended Sunday school I was intimately familiar with the story of Moses and the parting of the Red Sea which is what the feeling felt like. I could sense a portion was pulled away toward a source in front of me but the greater portion was yanked away behind me much like a carpet being pulled out from under my feet.

I tried to maintain my focus and balance as Harry had taught me, but it is impossible to tread water when there is no water around you. I fell back toward the real world; my magical senses feeling the power stolen from around me being build up for the source of not one but two spells. My otherworldly senses also registered the confusion in those closest to me when my calming waves suddenly disappeared. They had been listening to soothing music that suddenly screeched upon their senses.

I opened my physical eyes just in time see that the four Nazi instigators of this rally had not actually been conferring, they had been casting. This realization came just in time to sense their magic spell now built up in front of me finally completed, released, and aimed at the crowd in which I was standing right in the middle of.

Like my own castings there was no visual effect for the spell they cast; no rain of fire, no blast of lighting or wind. My sensitivity to magic merely allowed me to perceive its flow much like a blind man can sense changes in air currents or a bat can see an obstacle through the use of sound. And while there was no visual effect that I could immediately see that did not mean the spell did not have a purpose.

I felt the magic wash across me and suddenly I felt enraged. Not at anything in particular but at the situation of life in general. My magic had been taken from me and I wanted revenge on those who would steal from me. Others had held me down from things that were rightfully mine! I wanted justice for every injustice I had been forced to face in this world. I wanted revenge for those crimes committed against me. And I was going to get this account in balance right here and right now.

That is what I felt, and from the looks on the faces of those around me it was the same feeling everyone else experienced as well. The advantage I had in this situation was that a part of me recognized that a spell had been cast so I was able to fight off this emotion and calm myself down through this insider knowledge. Those around me in the crowd had no such similar advantage. In seconds all my efforts to bring peace to this situation had been completely reversed. Then the second spell struck the crowd from behind me in a well-timed one two punch.

Like the first spell, this one was also sensitive-based magic, but it was far stronger than anything I had ever felt before. Unlike the first, the caster had not relied upon another burst of rage this time to stoke the fires of the crowd even further. Instead he or she had launched a wave of pure, uncontrollable, and total fear.

My own emotional defenses alert and in place I resisted the attack, or more accurately I was not brought low by it, though for a moment I did find myself shaking uncontrollably until my will was able to exert control once more. Harry has no skills in this area to allow me to practice against so I had never faced such a thing before. Even with my own understanding of the magic, the combination of two such spells launched so precisely to support each other left me unable to do anything more than stagger under their effects and try to hold out against them much like holding your breath and praying while a wave crashes over you.

The crowd around me never had even a fraction of the chance that I did. Enraged and freighted people always revert to their base animal instincts of either fight or flight. In a tight packed environment where most of the people were strangers and therefore not recognizable as part of their own herd or pack, they turned upon themselves in an effort to escape.

Better disciplined than most, at the front of the crowd the police officers quickly formed ranks and relied upon their training to provide mutual support. As some swarmed in their direction, raised riot sticks were able to pause most of these citizens it their tracks and kept them outside of arm's reach; for those who came on anyway, a few quickly lowered swings handled those situations effectively if rather violently. With the WJIM camera still rolling I had no doubt calls of police brutality would soon be hitting the airwaves.

Some scuffles broke out in the crowd around me. The Chippendale's dancer was knocked from his feet by two others when he began to reach for the hammer on his tool belt. Thankfully the weapon skidded away far out of reach as the three rolled back and forth on the pavement using only their hands and feet as weapons instead.

The majority of the crowd merely surged in panic and tried to flee the scene. This caused them to run in all directions, many away from the crowd, but some thinking for some odd reason that moving against the flow and deeper into the crowd was the best idea. In the press of bodies I could not see Ishmael or Heinrich anywhere though I kept looking for them.

My own reasoning told me to stay put. As the people moved it would clear the area around me and I would be able to try and find out what had happened to the old men. I had my shield bracelet out and ready in case I needed it to force my way to the front of the crowd or whatever direction I needed to. But like the rest of my plans today it seemed, this one was also not meant to be.

A woman's scream in near complete hysteria erupted from behind me making me spin around to identify both the source and whatever the potential threat she was concerned with. I had not forgotten the second spell had come from this direction so it seemed likely something not good for Ms. Molly Carpenter's wellbeing was likely bearing down upon us. Instead what I noticed was the mother I had noticed earlier yanking one child from its stroller just in time as the crowd surged and crushed the child cart beneath their feet. The second and older of her children was actually being driven away from his mother and closer to me, but likely would soon be trampled over as well as the crowd picked up momentum. That situation sort of made my mind up for me of what it is I had to do.

I called up the bracelet's magic to form the rough equivalent of a knight's shield on the right side of my body and then dashed into the crowd toward the lone child. Shield spells take the form that their owner's desires, sometimes smaller than this one up to something like a dome that surrounds the wizard on all sides at once. Though I have never tried it, I suspect a globe could even be formed in an environment like water that would permit such things.

The purpose in forming this kind of shield at that moment was that I wanted something other than myself for the bodies running in my direction to slam into, even though I would still feel part of the shock from each encounter, and still have my left side free to scoop up the child. This plan worked, more or less, but left me feeling something like a pinball flipper after each contact. All in all that was better than being the ball I guess which is what those who ran into this invisible barrier likely related to.

By the time I reunited the child with his mother and sibling and dragged all three out of the way, those inclined to flee the scene had by now done so. Unfortunately the safest spot had been right where the camera crew was standing so that is where we ended up.

"Miss, that was incredible how you saved that child…" Elizabeth Martin, on the scene reporter for WJIM once again threw her microphone in my face. Thankfully the law of averages and magic finally caught up and the remote shoulder camera her assistant was carrying literally burst into flames. I cannot say I was unhappy to see this as he dropped the twenty pound piece of equipment smashing plastic and glass while it continued to burn and smoke quite nicely.

Even though most people had fled, the ones remaining were those more inclined to the fight side of the equation. You may know the ones I am talking about. They think there is entertainment value in hard drinking and picking fights in adult beverage establishments for no other reason than they can. There were about a dozen of these type in the crowd when the spells struck, and ignoring Mr. Chippendale and his two wrestling companions who seemed well occupied with each other, that left almost ten attacking the police line with a shower of bottles, cans, and rocks. None of these missiles would have been particularly dangerous had law enforcement deployed in riot gear, but no one had expected things to get out of hand the way they did. The bottles and rocks chucked from a distance more than compensated for and neutralized the baton swings that the officers could offer up close.

I saw no signs of Heinrich anywhere, and accepted that as likely a good thing. He had been behind me, the direction of the second spell, so it could have been him that cast it. I knew with absolute certainty though that the four in uniform on the museum steps has cast the first spell. These four had not fled in the ensuing panic. In fact they were taking the opportunity while the police were distracted to attack Ishmael more directly.

Once more my decision seemed made for me. I headed directly toward this group of five, widely skirting both the angry crowd and the police to reach them. And while the four thugs seemed focused upon first knocking the old man to the ground and then continuing to shout, beat, and kick at him as he tried to regain his feet, one of the group did notice my approach and give warning to the others. Three of the four turned to face me, while the fourth, the talkative one earlier with the bullhorn, leaned over Ishmael and provided a ringing slap across his face that I could feel from twenty feet away.

That pissed me off. I skidded to a stop and just as Harry had been teaching me I focused my anger and my will together, raising my right hand and aiming my palm at the three who headed my way. I am not sure just what they were expecting but they obviously did not fear me based upon the looks in their eyes. Why should they? They were three fairly tough looking guys in their early twenties. I was only a single female. What could I possibly do? Yep, that had to be what they were thinking when they charged me.

"Fuego!" I called out in the same commanding tone that Harry had been teaching me to use.

When Harry calls forth fire it appears like a lance of flame and incinerates all in its path. But remember, combat magic like this is as natural to Harry as breathing is to you or me. When I call upon this kind of magic it is alien and resists my summons. Instead of a lance of flame I get a candle flicker in most cases. In casting this spell I hoped to intimidate these three with such a show knowing I was not ready to actually face them down with any serious magic to back me up.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline, Harry says that sometimes helps power spells, but instead of just a candle flicker, this time I got a ball of flame, much like what gets shot out of a roman candle. Not nearly as intimidating as one of Harry's lances, but when it flies straight at you and explodes in your face it is not something you can ignore either.

The middle of the three screamed as the fire burned his face, removing in one fell swoop his eyebrows, about two days of beard growth, and probably all of his nose hair. First degree burns at best, but when they are unexpected like these were they hurt like hell. This made the other two stop on their heels in complete surprise just out of arm's reach.

I had thrown up my hands to ward off the blows I expected to be aimed at my head but the two saw this instead as a threat to attack them as I had just done to their friend. I was not Murphy. I did not have a black belt to fall back on. All I had was some fairly pitiful attack magic; that and my ability to bluff my ass off. My defensive hand gestures suddenly took on the appearance of offensive ones pointed at these last two.

"Why stop at just shaving your heads boys when I can melt off your entire face for you?" I said praying that my voice did not crack during the speech. The guy on the left believed me but the one on my right was not quite sure and started to take another step forward. I curled my fingers inward and smiled at him. "Oh goody I have not gotten to use this spell at full power in some time!" I tried to add a cackle but it ended up sounding more like a croak. But that was enough to get them to back off, grab their wounded friend who was already getting over the shock of my attack and rush away.

The fourth of their number noted this loss of his allies as well and took that as his cue to offer one more kick to Ishmael's stomach and the required "We will be back old man" type of comment villains must be taught in evil school before hightailing it himself. I of course let them go because there really was nothing I was capable of doing to stop them.

I ran up to Mr. Rothstein who was still forcing himself back up into a sitting and then a standing position. He had contusions on his face and hands, and a little blood dripping from a split lip but he was not going to let them have the satisfaction of keeping him down, even if he passed out in the process. I expected to see fire of defiance in his eyes but there was something else there now. There was a deeper fear than I had ever seen on another's face.

"Ishmael, what is wrong?" I said coming up and helping support him as he wobbled on his feet.

He looked away from the fleeing Nazi punks and then back to me, recognition finally coming to his eyes. "They know about it!" He said before his eyes rolled up showing me only the whites and passed out while I had to scramble and catch him before he hit the ground.


	7. Chapter 7

**Axis and Allies**

_**Monday Evening **_

_**Chapter 7**_

Once the group of four thugs left the scene, the area by the museum quickly began to return to normal. Those dozen or so civilians still battling among themselves and with the police quickly lost the heart for continuing and the police on the scene subdued them all just as additional police cars with lots of backup arrived to lend a hand.

I stayed put right there on the steps, resting Mr. Rothstein's head in my lap until the first of five follow-on ambulances arrived right on the tail of the police reinforcements. One crew made directly for me and the pair of paramedics performed a quick evaluation of Ishmael and decided because of his age they would not take any chances. They loaded him on the wheeled stretcher and immediately whisked him off to the hospital. I tried to join him in the ambulance but because I could not prove I was a relative I was denied the ability and had to settle for following in the Blue Beetle if I chose to. Instead I gave the duo the Rothstein's home phone number so that they could call and inform the family if he did not wake up in time.

Mike, the officer Murphy had cold cocked yesterday was the one who came over and took my statement. He also commended my for trying to save the old man's life, though he had been too occupied ducking and defending against the group of rioters to actually see what I had done to drive the four off. I tried to downplay my involvement and merely replied that I was a friend of Sergeant Karrin Murphy. He responded with a semi-smiling 'that figures' and a massage to the back of his still bandaged head as if this was all the answer he needed. I am glad because I really did not have a backup story ready if he waqs looking for more.

The police only asked a minimal number of questions to any of those present that had not actually been involved in the fight and had instead fled. This occurred once law enforcement learned that the vast majority of the event had been transmitted live across all of greater Chicago thanks to WJIM. While the camera that had done so was now nothing more than a melted pile of slag, the digital signal it had sent back until it burst into flames had been dutifully recorded at the main studio and was being played back on a near endless loop while talking heads gave their opinions on everything remotely related from the modern Nazi party goals to the effect of panic on a group of people. More news crews were rushing to the scene which was reason enough for me to hightail it out of there.

As a side note I later heard that Elizabeth had been called directly by the CNN corporate office before her or her assigned cameraman had packed up their van. By the time he turned the key in the ignition she was the new anchor for the mid-afternoon shift.

Thankfully, with the exception of my fire spell, none of the magic that had been cast around the museum had visible effects to the naked human eye. And since the only camera at the scene was already melting goo when I shot the ball of flame there was no recording of anything otherwise unexplainable for the home audience to ponder. While many over the coming days would debate what had set the crowd off, in the end it would get chalked up to some fight breaking out off camera in the crowd that set the rest of these events in motion. There was no reason and absolutely no gain for me to correct these false notions either.

I got into the Blue Beetle and headed south back into town; thankfully this was against the normal travel patterns of people trying to get home so my roads were relatively light on traffic compared to those going in the other direction. Thankfully the radio in Harry's car did not work so I was not forced to listen to others talking endlessly about what I had just experienced firsthand. Instead I focused on these events and tried to figure out the purpose behind all that had occurred.

I say with no little pride or false modesty that wizards are relatively intelligent people. Those born with the spark of magic do populate the full IQ spectrum, but those on the lower ends of this scale tend to weed themselves out of the gene pool relatively quickly and effectively. We have this report that comes out of the Merlin's office once a year detailing magical mistakes that cost the casting wizard his or her life. The Merlin sees this as serious study for those of lesser skill than himself, which of course is everyone else. But to Harry and many of his magical gifted friends, the Oz Award, named in honor of the Wizard of Oz and related in concept to the mortal Darwin Awards, is cause for a wizardly celebration at MacAnally's Pub. On the first Friday, each year after publication by Merlin's office, wizards take turns reading each incident aloud and the deceased are toasted with raised glasses of ale. It is usually the biggest event that the pub sees during any given year and to date has not yet been cause for adding another line in the next year's report, though I have heard this has been a close thing in years past.

But let me get back to the business at hand. Since wizards tend to be intelligent this means they tend to plan their events carefully whenever possible to achieve their desired result. The chance that one spell to panic the crowd might be cast opportunistically was remote but arguably possible as a response to the negative reaction the Nazi protestors received. The chance a second spell just happened to be cast on its heels to seal the deal and send the crowd into a fury was nonexistent. That meant someone, likely the caster of the second spell, had planned and arranged this entire event from the very beginning. But if that was so, what was their end game? What would a riot in downtown Chicago do for them?

Was it only to get an attack at Ishmael? That seemed one possible result but even so that was illogical. Had I not shown up at the _Shiva_ for his grandson then surely no one else would have driven him here. Therefore the attack on Mr. Rothstein must have been one of mere happenstance or convenience; and outlet for blind hatred of some bigots for an old Jew. So if it was not to attack him, what other purpose did this riot have?

Rather frustratingly there just were no other answers that became apparent to me. That meant not only did I have no clue what the other wizards' goals were, I had no way of knowing where I could try and interfere in their plans either. I was flying blind and Harry was not here to help me sort this all out and make some sort of sense of it all. While I certainly find his teaching methods frustrating, there are times like right now when I could really use his sage advice and experience.

I decided to stop by his office on the way back to his apartment. The first was closer and would let me get some necessary business out of the way while the second location was required out of duty. I had to get back there to feed Mouse and Mister and hoped now that perhaps immersing myself in his fortress of magical solitude that I could figure out some of the pieces I was missing.

I also did not want to go home and face the looks of my siblings or parents if they had seen me on television. This was one of the rare times I did not mind the fact that I could not hold a cell phone for any length of time greater than ten minutes before it died, often spectacularly. I'm certain if I had one it would be ringing off the hook right now otherwise.

I pulled into the same spot across the street from Harry's office where we always park the Blue Beetle. I am not sure if this has been somehow assigned to us, or if no one wants to park their car close to his based on all the obvious constant repairs he has done to the vehicle. It's obvious that every few months the body needs some new piece. Maybe in the greater Chicago area auto insurers give discounts for not parking near a wizard's car. Either way its convenience meant I could just hop out and run up the five flights of stairs to his office. You would think a guy who knows elevators can be the bane of his existence would find office space on the first or second floor and save us the treadmill workout just to get to work.

There are of course no wards on the office because incinerating your prospective customers tends to be bad overall for business. And since it was an office and not his apartment, there was little or no actual deterrent value based on the Homestead laws of magic that keep malicious creatures out of private places of residence. That meant a whole host of bad and nasty things from the Nevernever could be just on the other side of that door waiting to disfigure one rather cute and perky teenage wizard in training.

Not so much to counter this threat, but instead to provide the most basic of alarms, Harry used and old trick of jamming a small folded piece of paper between the door and frame whenever he left, an activity I picked up and mimicked myself when I watched his place. This rather unassuming scrap of seeming trash would end up lying on the floor if anyone opened the locked door and did not know about it. Harry said he had picked the trick up from an old Paul Newman movie and even admitted it was not universally effective for Nevernever things like spirits that could walk incorporeally through the wall or door without opening it. But still, seeing the paper wedged where I had left it though went a long way to easing my concerns that I might be about to face a troll or some other such thing.

The office was as I had left it yesterday with a sole exception of some envelopes that had been passed through the mail slot. I scooped up the mail behind the door, made a note to check it before I left for bills, and dropped it on the desk as I reached for the phone. I twisted Harry's rolodex, the old wheel type with actual paper cards, until I got to the M section and found Karrin's personal cell phone number. I could have called her either at the office or at home but did not want any record of my call with the duty desk. She got enough grief for bringing in wizards on some cases and having to pay them with city funds, I did not want to make this more uncomfortable for her when I did not have anything useful to tell.

The cell phone rang only twice before I heard her familiar voice on the line. "This is Murphy." She said in an all business tone she used when not knowing who she was speaking to.

"Hey Murph, this is Molly, are you able to talk?" I asked trying to give her the chance to get to a better location if she needed to or waive me off if this were a bad time.

"Yeah you caught me at a diner by the station having dinner." She said. "I have to get back to the office in fifteen minutes so what's up?"

I suddenly felt like a failure at not having anything useful for her case so I was in no rush to admit this. "Hey Karrin if you are on a date or out with the guys in your section I can call you later…"

She laughed. "Kid I have not been on a real date in…forget it, that is too depressing for me to even try to count and I am certainly not going to admit it publicly." She said. "What is up Molly? Do you have something for me on my case?"

Oh hell, not like this was going to get any easier later. "No Murph, sorry but my lead with the Hebrew book struck out." I said expecting to hear the disappointment in her response.

"Don't sweat it kid." She said without any disappointment. In fact there was something else in her voice that I did not recognize. "Harry only has answers for me maybe one in three cases so it was not something I was counting solely on."

"Ummm okay." I said not knowing what else to say in response to her acceptance. I guess I had read too many books were the hired hand provided the key clue to solve the case that I did not know what to do under any other scenario.

"I got a call from Mike though." She said changing the subject on me. "He said that although he did not see it himself, you had done something fairly impressive to scare off four guys beating up an old man. He said he was pretty impressed with you until he found out we were friends." She laughed making me relax.

"I did not really do much." I said.

"Molly by Mike's account you did what you had to." Murphy cut off my denials. "I am sure Harry would have been proud of you." I don't think there were any words she could have said that would have opened me up emotionally as quickly as those did.

"Murph I was so scared." I said for the first time even admitting it to myself. While I held the phone I felt my body beginning to shake as the last adrenaline that had kept me hyped up since the riot finally leached away. "I can't cast combat spells like Harry can Murph. Had they stayed to fight me I'd have been in that ambulance right along with Mr. Rothstein, that is if they had not killed us instead."

"Kid let it go." She said like a big sister. "You did the right thing, what had to be done, and you walked away from it. Not sure what that means to a wizard, but down here at the station we call that type of thing a success. And hey if you ever want to sweat a little I'd be happy to teach you a few self defense moves to backup your magic." The offer caught me by surprise. Being one of the oldest I never had a big sister.

"That would be great Karrin." This was all I could say even if I was unsure if I wanted to take her up on her offer.

"Alright Molly let me finish my dinner and get back to work. Are you staying at Harry's place again tonight?" She asked.

"Probably." I said suddenly liking the prospect of going home and facing my family directly even less than having a cell phone for the same purpose. A few random thoughts intruded to keep me on target.

"Hey Murph did you hear if Mr. Rothstein was alright?" I asked afraid of the answer.

"The old man you saved? Yeah he was sitting up in the ambulance by the time they reached the hospital and he refused to let them look at him or treat him beyond the simple bandages they had already applied." She answered. "He is one tough old man." She said admiringly.

"What do you know about him?" I asked. "I mean about his background before his grandson's murder."

"Why do you suspect something?"

"No, not at all." I answered truthfully. "He just seems to be one of those people that is so much more than what he appears to be."

"Well I will run him through the computer and see what I can find out." She offered.

"Hey if you are going to do that, can you do the same for a Heinrich Hummel." I said giving the likely spelling for the name though I of course did not know this for sure.

"Why, something up?"

"Yeah, before the attack he said he needed to talk to Mr. Rothstein. He even said it was a matter of life and death…no wait…a matter of death." I corrected recalling his odd phrase he used. Obviously this was enough to tweak Murphy's curiosity as well.

"Okay I will." She said. "Now can I get back to my plate of cold pot roast or you need me to do anything else for you?" She teased. "Go you are becoming more and more like Harry every day!"

"No that will be it." I said and we exchanged goodbyes.

I pushed down the receiver and then let it up to get another dial tone as I fished Murphy's note out of my pocket. I dialed the Rothstein home number and waited for four rings before it was answered this time.

"Rothstein residence." A voice said far too awkwardly and formal to be on e of the family members. I remembered that when a family was Sitting Shiva other friends and relations took care of daily business like cooking and cleaning so I assumed this is what I was dealing with.

"I am looking for Ishmael Rothstein." I said honestly.

"May I ask who is calling?" The sudden addition of suspicion in the voice nearly leaked like liquid through the phone.

"My name is Molly Carpenter and I…"

"You are the one who drove him away from his home this morning?" The voice asked.

"Yes, and I wanted to check up on him since I heard he had chosen not to stay at the hospital." I said. "I feel somewhat responsible and…"

"You are responsible!" The voice interrupted. "Leave the old man alone. Don't you know he is grieving for his grandson who died in his arms lying on the street? What kind of person are you?"

"I'm sorry." I said shocked. "Can you give him my number and tell him I called." I said repeating my number twice before whoever it was on the other end hung up the phone.

If the person on the other end actually wrote the number down I would be surprised. And even if they did I am certain that the paper it had been written on was now lying at the bottom of the closest trashcan. Oh well, at least they had not spoken like his wounds had been all that life threatening so I chalked that up as a good thing.

Okay then, I replaced the receiver one more time and looked at my own notes on the page. 'Shertel's magic book, Furher's copy, 505.' Just what I needed, another library hunt for a book I had no clue existed, or if it did just what kind of role it would play. For all I know this was another dead end and I'd be wasting time better spent on other leads. I don't remember Harry spend lots of his time chasing such things down, but of course as a full-fledged wizard and me merely an apprentice he had a whole lot more schooling to draw upon than I likely would for years to come.

Alright so maybe I was approaching this problem the wrong way. I know Harry was primarily a go it yourself type except when the odds built up heavy against him. I, on the other hand, like to think of myself as a little more of a team player and not afraid to reach out and owe a few favors here or there if the cause is right. And speaking of favors I knew just who might be able to shine so light on a magic book, and the fact he was also cute made the idea of owing him a favor much more palatable.

I flipped through Harry's rolodex and found the entry for Carlos Ramirez. Carlos is a Warden, one of the White Council's enforcement army just like Harry, whose responsibility was for everywhere west of the Mississippi. This was truly impressive because he was only a few years older than I was. He also was an incredible flirt and thought himself as smooth with the ladies as they come. I definitely knew how I could stroke those particular ego issues to try and get the help I needed.

Harry's card for Carlos had two numbers written on it. As a wizard himself he was unlikely to have a cell phone, PDA, or any other mobile type phone. I also am sure he said that the Wardens were his only job so an office number did not make a lot of sense. In fact the first number listed had the words 'Warden business' scribed underneath it. I suspect that meant this was an official business line of some sort and since I wanted to fly under the radar of the White Council, the Wardens, and just about everyone who had me under a suspended death sentence I decided that maybe the business line was not the correct one for my purposes.

The second number only had the letters 'LN' written under it though there was a hand written smiley face and a few exclamation points in Harry's handwriting to let me know he had put this here. This alone peaked my curiosity and made the second number the one I chose to dial.

Of course with a wizard's inherent destructive nature around most technology, an answering machine would likely not last week either if it were the actual tape kind, and that would be reduced to a life span of just hours for the more modern digital recorders. I often wondered how Harry dealt with all the missed calls, both at his business and home, but he never seemed to mind. Like I said Harry is more of a grump than a social butterfly so would not notice this inconvenience of the modern world. But of course Carlos, ladies man that he claimed himself to be, could not possibly live under such austere conditions. Instead, he found the solution by hiring an answering service to ensure he got all of his calls.

"Carlos's Love Nest…" So that is what 'LN' stood for. "…Carlos is unable to take your call right now as women are swooning for his attentions. If you would you care to leave a message for the hottest man in Los Angeles he will call you back and satisfy you in the order your call was received. Please leave a message after the tone." To add insult to injury there was no delay between the word tone and the beep that followed. Guess not a lot of messages waiting in the cue.

Okay, I admit it. I fumbled the phone quickly and hung up without saying anything. I mean really I couldn't. I was too close to just breaking out in laughter and that would not have been a good way to start to ask for a favor. And once the phone was safely in the cradle I let loose with a belly laugh because after the last couple of hours I really needed it. Now I understood why Harry had made the annotations on the card by this number. It was a surefire pick me up when you needed one. But there was no way I was going to be able to leave my message on that line without him hearing the laughter in my voice so I guess the Warden number was required.

Once I had calmed down enough to talk I dialed the first number and it was answered immediately, not by Carlos, but by a very professional sounding human answering service. "Would you like to leave a message for Warden Ramirez?" The lady with a slight Asian sounding voice asked. I wondered if she had ever heard Carlos's other answering service.

"Yes ma'am." I said respectfully while trying not to replay the love nest message in my mind. "Please tell Carlos that Molly called for him and that he can reach me at either the Dresden office or home numbers." I said knowing that he did not have my parent's phone number anyway so this was a good reason for me to have to stay at Harry's place for at least another night. The woman promised to pass the message the next time Carlos called in, I understood he could not carry a pager for the same reasons as no cell phone, which was roughly every six hours or so. I thanked her and hung up the phone before breaking out into a more refined chuckle this time.

Okay so that was three calls out of the way, now I had the last and most important one left. I found the note where I had scratched down Ms. Brown's information and realized all I had was 'Airport Hilton' written on the piece of paper. Thankfully Harry kept a copy of the Yellow Pages,' I did not know they even printed these in paper anymore, on his desk and I found the number right away. I dialed the front desk.

"Airport Hilton may I help you?" The voice was very refined and professional, but then again you sort of expect this from an upper class hotel that charged these rates. After all I was not calling the No Tell Motel.

"Yes Ma'am I am looking for a Ms. Brown." I said realizing that I did not even have her first name or room number. Some detective you turned out to be Molly. Ah well, chalk that up to experience.

"First name please?" The voice on the other side asked. "We currently have three registered guests with that name."

Damn it. Oh well so much for easy. I was just about to explain that I did not know Ms. Brown's first name when the door to the office opened up and another old man walked in. Harry always seems to get hot women as his clients, okay many are vampires, demons, and evil fairies, but still he gets eye candy and I get aged experience to put it in the nicest terms. I wonder if I could specialize as a wizard for hire only for hot, single guys?

"What is the first name of the party you are trying reach please?" The Airport Hilton customer service representative prompted me again since I was daydreaming.

"Umm I don't know it." I said as the stranger walked into the room and I got a good look at him for the first time. He was even taller than Harry, six and a half feet if he were an inch, and dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, not that someone his height could buy off the rack I guess. His every movement was a demonstration of efficiency of motion, using only the exact actions and motions of his body to accomplish what he desired. In five precise steps he strode across the floor and sat in the open chair opposite the desk.

"I am looking for the Wizard Dresden, is that you?" The man spoke in very crisp and distinct words.

Of course at the same moment the service representative on the other end of the phone spoke up. "Ma'am on an off chance, you would not happen to be Harry Dresden would you? If you are and can prove it I have a message for you."

Did I mention that the Three Fates hate all wizards and I am starting to think me very specifically? I needed the message from the front desk since it had been left specifically for me, but that meant I was about to compound my problems. Suck it up Molly. I thought to myself before answering. "Yes I am Harry Dresden." I said holding up a well manicured finger to tell this new visitor I would only be a moment.

"Uh, the message says I am supposed to ask you your occupation but I think that can't be right based on what it says here." The voice was obviously confused.

"Yes, I am a wizard." I said.

"If you insist ma'am" Which meant 'Yeah sure you are' the voice replied. "But you said the right thing so here is the message. Ms. Dresden, Ms. Brown said to tell you she was headed to the airport to pick up her husband. If you have agreed to take the case I am to mail a package with all the information you requested yesterday along with a cashier's check for triple your normal fee if you make this case your number one priority."

I had gotten hung up on the term husband because I had though Ms. Brown and the Eric she was hunting for were a couple, and I guess maybe they still could be, but then the statement of tripling my fee, meaning another two thousand dollars was headed my way, was enough to get me to stutter and answer. "That will be fine, you can tell her I am on the case. I suppose you need the address?"

"No. It is already on the package and will go out by messenger tomorrow. You should have it by Wednesday." The lady from the hotel responded. "Is there anything further I can do for you?" This being the standard question that I guess Hilton hotels drill into all their employees. Of course I was still focused upon the two thousand dollar check.

"No that will be all." I said and listened as she gave me her best wishes and hung up. I too placed the receiver back in the cradle and began once more picturing my own name in pink letters on the door.

"Ahem." I was drawn back to the here and now by my unexpected and obviously impatient guest. "Wizard Dresden I wish to employ your services."

I took a good close look at the man sitting across from me for the first time. Like I said he was old, but not near death the way that Heinrich had looked. Instead he had more of a satisfied look about himself such as if he knew his life would be judged fairly by whatever standard he used for such things. I guess that is an enviable position to be in at that stage of life.

I also noted his eyeglasses for the first time. They were very old wire type rims, probably pure silver beneath the tarnish of ages. The lenses though were peculiar. Instead of normal cut glass or even bifocals as one might expect of someone his age, each circular lens had a second dime-sized circular area centered near the bottom. I had seen such things on magnifying glasses and knew this was for clear magnified viewing of very small objects. I tore myself away from these glasses for fear of seeming rude.

"Well Mr…." I said waiting for him to introduce himself.

"You may call me Mr. Leland." He said to finish my inquiry. "You will of course excuse me for not sharing my real name but I have had dealings with those in your profession in the past and learned that sharing of a true name with a wizard can give them power over you.

Of course this is absolutely true, though in my case I had no idea how I would even begin to use this knowledge against someone. The fact that HE knew about this though went a long way in my book to verifying his claim that he had dealt with wizards in the past. It was not one of those little facts about wizards that were taught to children through nursery rhymes.

"Mr. Leland then, how can I help you?" I asked though I was not in truth looking for any additional work. It should teach me right for claiming to be Harry Dresden I guess.

"I need you to find something for me with you magic." Mr. Leland replied very matter-of-factly. Yep he knew the things we were capable of. "Among the many professions I have had in my life, I am a watchmaker." He said which fully explained the magnifying lenses in his glasses.

"Many years ago I was commissioned to create a very wonderful piece." He said. "Finding the right materials of the purest quality took months, their proper preparation even longer. The craftsmanship in assembly sometimes took days just to properly set the spring. I can admit with no little pride that the piece in question is certainly the most difficult and demanding, yet most satisfying work I had ever been commissioned to make."

"And the owner is here in Chicago?" I asked.

"The owner is long deceased." Mr. Leland replied. "In fact he died in some sort of a boating accident. I had assumed for many years that the watch was lost forever."

"But you now know it is not." I finished.

"Exactly." He said nodding in a bit of obvious excitement which was the first non-required motion I had seen him make. He did not clarify how he came by this knowledge and I did not ask.

"If it is truly as wonderful as you say then it is almost certainly in someone's private collection." I said. "You realize I could only lead you to it in that case. I will not try to steal it." I wanted to make that very clear from the outset. I even hoped it would deter him from wanting to hire me. But of course I am not that lucky.

"Nor would I ask you to." He said. "I truly just wish to see it one more time and now may be my last chance. If the owner was open to selling it then I might try to convince him or her to part with it for a fair value." He said in complete and open honesty. "My life has led me around the world more times than I can count so I likely would have something or other the owner might desire. Or at least I would know how to get my hands upon it legally." He said with a smile that also seemed honest.

"I must tell you that casting such spells is hardly an exact science." I said making an oxymoron that sailed right up and over the head of my guest. Okay Molly, stick to the basic wizard script and do not try to be any cuter than you are naturally.

"I am aware of such things."

"It is best to have part of the object because the magic then establishes a connection with the rest of it and leads you to your goal." That was true for the most part. Blood was usually strong enough to lead you to the person who it came from, but on the other hand you would do better turning a license plate over to the police to run than trying this type of magic with it because you would be more likely to get other plates from the same lot rather than the car the plate had come from.

"As I have said I had dealing with your type before so I know such things." He offered as he reached into his coat's inner pocket and drew out a bundled piece of old silk and placed it on the desk between us. Once again with precise movements he peeled away each fold until an old silver dollar sized piece of metal lay exposed. It glinted somewhat like silver from the sunlight.

"Sterling?" I asked, hesitant to reach out and touch this item myself.

"Platinum actually." He replied.

Whoa! He was not kidding when he said he had used only the best material if slightly convex disk sitting between us was any indication. The metal alone, if it were all of such quality, would likely make the watch worth tens of thousands of dollars. If the workmanship were as good we would be talking about the timepiece equivalent of the Mona Lisa perhaps.

"I take it this came from the same batch you made the original watch from?" I asked figuring like license plates this would probably be enough for the spell he required.

"No it is the original backing." He explained carefully turning it over and allowing me to see the impossibly fine grooves along the sides that would screw over the other main piece making the whole thing watertight and probably ageless if properly taken care of. In the reflection I could also see the inner surface had been engraved as well.

"May I?" I asked before actually handling it.

"I assumed you would require touching it to cast you spell." He said with a hint of a smile.

I picked it up gingerly and rotated it so that I could see what was said. The letters were very small, too small for even my 20/20 eyesight. Mr. Leland noted my problem and lifted the curly wireframes of his glasses from around his ears and then offered them to me to magnify what was written inside. I had always been told by my mother not to wear someone else's glasses but I figured this was a reasonable exception.

I just held them to my eyes with my left hand as I used my right to put the platinum disk in just the right location for the magnifying lenses to read what was written there. How he had written it was beyond me.

_A watch is made of gears and a spring_

_Each designed to do only one specific thing_

_With each turn the tension grows_

_Until released when this power flows_

_But such power can also be undone_

_When the two poles opposed are joined as one_

"That is an old poem in the watchmaker's trade so I included it on my greatest work." Mr. Leland explained as I handed him back his glasses and he fit them back into place. "However, the owner who had commissioned the work did not like it and had me create another back without the inscription."

"But then this is the original backing for the watch." If I understood what he said with a nod.

"It is."

"Then it is likely I can help you." Okay I was not looking for more business but Harry had taught me this kind of spell early on and it really was not all that different from making potions. I figured it could not hurt to help this old guy out, hell that was becoming my modus operandi lately it seemed.

"About your fee…" He said bringing up the subject before I even thought to do so.

"Yes normally it is five hundred a week." I explained quoting my established price with Ms. Brown and was about to offer him a reduced rate when he interrupted me.

"You must excuse me but as I said I do a lot of travelling in my line of work." He said. "I am not one for carrying currency because it is often too confusing if I have to leave someplace in a hurry to make another deal. Would this be acceptable as payment?" He lifted from his opposite inside coat pocket a small velvet purse with drawstring and slowly drew it open. Carefully he poured the contents on the desk and then laid the purse next to them. I sucked in a breath as nearly a dozen sparkling and clear diamonds twinkled in the early evening light before me.

"I often use such things in my work." He said as way of an explanation. "I find they are also easy to trade if you require cash after our business is concluded."

"For casting your spell you may have these." He said making no attempt to collect them back up. "If you can find my watch before the end of the week you may have two more purses of the same amounts if that is acceptable to you Wizard Dresden."

I tried not to exclaim profanity or squeal so that left me only with shaking my head in silent agreement. He took this to mean our business, for the moment, was concluded. He stood up and made no movement to collect either the platinum watch backing or the diamonds but merely made his way to the door as if to leave.

"Mr. Leland, how will I get in touch with you?" I asked.

He turned to smile at me. "I will come by your office each evening. If you have had success you can share it with me then." He did not say what, if anything, happened if I was unsuccessful. But without another word he stepped through the door and closed it carefully behind him.

I looked up and watched his shadow disappear as he walked away to the elevator. My eyes looked down at the glittering metal and diamonds on the desk and then back up at the door. "Screw pink painted letters!" I thought to myself with a smile. "I am putting up a frigging neon sign!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Axis and Allies **

**_Monday Evening _**

**_Chapter 8_**

I made it all the way back to Harry's place, into the apartment, had to go back out to walk Mouse, and then even let Mister back in when he scratched on the door without encountering another strange old man. I therefore chalked that hour up as one of my most successful overall since leaving school today. But by now it was seven at night and I still had school homework and magic homework to get done before I could call it a day and go to sleep.

Normally I would not think about wanting to go to bed before ten, but after the early starting day I had followed by all the excitement I wanted to just collapse right now on the couch. I sighed when I realized that I would be lucky to have everything done by ten and be able to get to sleep. With only a few hours under my belt before Murph's call had interrupted me, I really could use it for both my mind and body.

Harry had made me promise to practice both my casting and simple potion creations when my school homework permitted as these would be the things I would rely upon most until experience and a lot of training built up my strength. I figured I had cast a shield, a flame burst, well more of a ball, and my inherent sensitive magics to calm the crowd so I had met his requirement for spell practice just with a single day of private investigator work. That meant, in order to meet his demands on me, did I mention he was an evil taskmaster, all I needed to do was recharge my shield spell in the bracelet charm I had used, and whip up another potion from his cookbook.

Hell, at least that sounded more interesting than my English Literature class homework I had to do still. I had signed up for the class because I wanted to read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, but no, one of the football players said we should read Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream because he had been told there was a sex scene in it. Not only is there not, but the teacher assigned us roles so that we read the story aloud in character. And to compound the issue of not getting to read the book I actually wanted to, the class is mostly made up of girls, meaning some of us had to play male roles. And my character's name is of course, wait for it…, Nick Bottom.

While I understand the First Law of Magic requirements on not casting spells to purposefully cause harm to other human beings, I swear the next guy who passes me in the hall, calls me Nick, and pinches my ass will have a very specifically aimed veil placed over his private parts right before he walks into the boy's locker room or goes out on a date. I do not care what psychological trauma that may cause, no more pinching my ass!

Okay, I'm better now. But as I was saying the magical homework was at least a bit more enticing to me at the moment than studying my Nick Bottom lines so I decided to head down into the sub-basement again. I used my handy pack of matches and lit the half dozen candles in the room and then grabbed a familiar five subject notebook that Harry had put together for me to use in my magical studies.

Sitting down on the side of my worktable I opened it to the fourth section, the one where Harry had printed up the formulas for all the various potions he knew of; or at least the ones he trusted me to make and have at my disposal. That meant the Native American shaman ones that used peyote and of course love potions had been conveniently left out of this notebook, though I of course knew such things existed from my other readings.

Mister came down the stairs again; I guess he did not mind it down here as much as Harry had seemed to indicate. He wandered directly over to me and began to rub his body along my calves. It did not feel bad, but I have to admit it was a bit distracting when I was trying to concentrate. And distracting me was just more time before I could get to bed.

"Cut it out Mister." I said shooing him away and getting a glare from him in response much like a date I told the same thing to. "Don't give me that pouty look. I need to find a potion to make tonight. I did not see any to stop riots so I guess I will just make any ole one." Of course to make a potion to stop a riot would still require getting everyone to consume it, which of course was not terribly practical. You might relax one or two people, but groups tended to not work so well.

I already had the endurance ones that I might need, so anything else I made would be strictly for practice. Being that this was not then an important decision I decided to flip to a sheet randomly and let fate decide tonight's wizard's brew. My thumb flipped the pages until my opposite index finger selected one at random and I opened it right to that page.

"Cat's eye brew." I said aloud and was just starting to read it when Mister blew out the candle on the desk nearly plunging me into darkness. "Dang it Mister!" I said realizing I had left the matches over by the stairs when I had completed the lighting around the room and had to walk all the way back over and retrieve them.

I turned around to see Harry's cat, we were no longer on a first name basis at that point, standing not only on my worktable, but on top the potion notebook with his claws extended like he was planning on shredding the papers he had already bunched up. "Look I'm going to change you name to Roadkill if you damage that book." I said coming directly toward him in a hurry and lighting a match to scare him away. Odd, the cat did not even flinch when I brought the fame near him. I thought animals had an instinct of fearing fire? Oh well, it is not like Harry knew what a normal pet was in the first place.

Mister scooted off the side of the table when I relit the candle and sat down. True to my fear some pages had been crumpled, but thankfully none had been destroyed nor were there dirty footprints obscuring any of the formulas. I flattened the papers out and looked at them again. "Elemental Control" on the left page and "Enhanced Senses" was printed upon the right. I tried to remember if that was right. I recalled something about eyes, so I must have been planning the senses potion.

"Okay then, Enhanced Senses it is." I said aloud seeing Mister perk up and then give me a very human looking odd stare. He seemed ready to blow out my candle again, I did not know cat's could puff their cheeks like that, but I reached over and flicked his nose rather hard to stop him. His eyes grew incredibly wide at this and he launched himself up the stairs without further issue except for bouncing off the bookshelf where Harry kept his skull and making it rattle. Making sure it was not going to fall I turned back to the Enhanced Senses potion after starting my Bunsen Burner.

The base liquid for making this potion was water, as that symbolized a cleaning and clearing of everything in the body to allow for a pure focus upon the senses. As normal five items, one for each sense, were then added.

For sight the ingredient was a double exposed picture to simulate a double take. This was to simulate the eye's ability to notice things even that did not register on the mind. I paused for a moment and thought about the Mister Hottie I had seen in the crowd today. Keeping that in mind as I added the photo ensured the power of that spell.

For hearing I whispered a personal secret into the beaker known only to me. I would share it with you here and now except then the magic would fail. Sorry!

For scent my choice was pine oil. While this reminded me of cleaning my mom's house every spring I could not deny and good whiff certainly seemed to fill and invigorate all the cells of my body. Maybe this is why I find bald men with earrings attractive.

For taste Harry kept some champagne soaked strawberries. I preferred chocolate covered myself, but beggars are not choosers and it did provide and interesting effect when I mashed and squeezed one into the bubbling brew.

For touch I added a small piece of exceptionally fine silk that when rubbed across bare skin was so soft as to make the nerve endings almost seek out this sensation all on their own. I had to find some tailor that had such material and have a dress and all the necessary undergarments made from this. I suspect I would feel as if I were actually naked wearing such a thing. Yep, that was certainly the perfect material for my prom dress.

For the mind I added some Chinese Ginkgo that the television says was good for a improving the ability of the mind to think clearly. I know that there are whole infomercials dedicated to this product, which that alone made me doubtful of its actually properties, Harry told me that Ancient Mai swore to its effectiveness even though at the same point said that from tradition it actually only worked on Chinese holy men, which in our line of word is a traditional hint that this meant wizard. But since the spell works off of faith and symbology of the item, I knew this was perfect for enhancing the power of the mind.

Of course enhancing one's spirit was not nearly so easy. People tend to have their own items in this regard. Harry for example might dip his mother's pentagram pendant into the brew as this is what gives him strength in many of his endeavors. For me, believe it or not and my occasional Goth look aside, I get mine from my faith.

I grew up in a home where my father was selected from among a planet of billions of others, to include some very holy people, to wield one of the three swords of faith that each carries one of the nails Jesus was nailed to the cross with. Furthermore, whenever God called upon dad to perform a given act, he always arranged for coincidences to occur that let my dad focus solely on the problem rather than his family responsibilities.

One particularly busy summer for my dad, the Catholic Church offered an all expense paid family trip to Vatican City for the young child who wrote the best essay on why faith is important. Mom of course made me enter the contest as I was the only one of her kids at the time of the correct age. I remember that all I wrote is "faith is important in my family because it allows my father to better serve God knowing God is taking care of us." Of course I won. While dad spent the summer battling evil we were guests of the cardinals and toured the Sistine Chapel. Yep, it is hard not to believe in God when he is your father's regular employer. So for spirit I added a holy wafer to the mix, Harry did not let me keep consecrated wine in the house.

With all the items nicely cooking I turned next to repowering my shield charm bracelet. Normally Harry did this for me because his shields were stronger than my own. That way if I called on one I had the strength of Harry's defensive magic at my disposal not merely my own. But having even my weaker one to call upon in an emergency was better than none at all.

I sat down within the summoning circle that Harry has made in the basement. Magical circles can be used to keep things in or protect a wizard from things outside. My goal in using it was sort of the former. As I sat down I pricked my finger to well up a drop of blood and let that fall upon the circle itself, instantly creating a magical barrier around me until such time as I would smear and remove it.

I then sat cross legged in the circle and once more let my mind focus on the magic around me which I had been taught was the beginning of nearly every spell. Unlike when I had been outside today, my senses currently could only stretch to the edges of the circle and bumped up against the invisible cylinder I sat within. But within this confines space I could sense all the magic that existed and that I was able to draw upon.

If you have ever gone to the beach what I had done was created a small tide pool. The magic had been flowing around like it normally did until I established the circle, which suddenly contained just a small part of it and made it settle down. While this cut off my sources to more magic, it also allowed me to better focus on the magic nearby that now pooled rather than ebbed and flowed like the ocean. Through my concentration I began to gather up as much of this as I could, holding my bracelet in my hand with my thumb and forefinger on the empty charm.

Harry can almost gather up the entire volume of magic held inside the circle and focus this into the charm. I can do just a little over half that amount, which explains why his shields are stronger than mine. Once more I called upon the spell but this time in my mind I focused on it flowing out of my body, through my two fingers and into the charm. The power leeched from me and was contained by the silver, Harry says this is the best metal for such spells, of the charm making it a little shinier than it had been.

I felt drained, spells do that to you, but I wiped away the blood drop and dissolved the circle. I sensed the magic rush back in once more and this refreshed me slightly, enough to get up and make sure my potion was still bubbling nicely. Satisfied I had not burned it, since burned potion smells worse than wet dog, I turned off the Bunsen burner to let the concoction cool and next withdrew the platinum backing of the watch I had been paid to find and laid it on the work table as well.

I bet you did not know that to become a good wizard you have to learn to tie as many types of knots as a sailor. I actually enjoyed that training as my hands have always been very dexterous. The purpose of this is that such things can be used to help contain and focus magic also. In other cases, they were just damn handy to know such as in the current case in point.

The best was to use detection magic is to enchant an item associated with the object you are looking for, and then suspend it from a string or some such to allow it to move freely like a compass needle. When the magic finds its counterpart, the piece you have suspended will move against gravity to pull in the direction of the remainder of the object. This allows the wizard to walk and take numerous readings until eventually narrowing down the search area.

My plan was slightly complicated in the fact that there were no holes to tie off to in the platinum disk. In its design the completed watch was supposed to be both air and waterproof to prevent dirt or other materials from gumming up the delicate works or gears and springs inside. Therefore a hole would be a bad thing. So instead of just a standard slip knot I would have to work something more elaborate like a monkey's fist.

Having recovered as much as I was going to without sleeping, once more I focused on the magical energies of the world around me and gripped the disk firmly in my closed fist. Once I judged the power was as strong as I was likely to channel it, I called out the command word. "_Magnetite_."

I am not sure why spells work better with ancient languages than with modern English but they just do. This provides me an unexpected benefit from being a Catholic. The Latin word for magnet or loadstone directed the magic to seek to attract to other objects like itself. Satisfied I had cast the spell correctly I laid the disk next to a pile of string and began to wrap it inside a monkey fist knot, the kind that sailors used on the ends of ropes to cast to dockhands to tie up their ships. Deft fingers soon had the disk hidden completely from view and suspended from a six inch piece of twine that I held up now to watch the spell's effect.

The ball circled a few times slowly coming to rest and from the indication of its final direction the watch lay directly beneath my feet. Damn it. Well since I knew it did not lay beneath my feet that meant that either the spell had failed, which was unlikely because this was another of the sensitive magics that I am fairly proficient at, the watch was not within the general boundaries of Chicago, which was about the maximum distance for this spell to register, or that the watch was in a place that the magic could not sense easily.

I discounted the first possibility, and realized if the second were true then Mr. Leland had been incorrect so this was not my fault. The third situation though is what I most worried about. There were some materials that were more or less magically resistant to be almost dead. Lead for example is one of these. While it shares many of the same qualities as gold, which is highly magical, spells do not flow through it the way that electricity does not pass through rubber soled boots.

While a good magical fire blast will still melt lead as the magic creates a change in the world's physics in the form of heat, which of course lead is susceptible to, but without such a change magic only flows around lead, or more accurately only a small portion of the magic can push all the way through. If the watch were in a lead safe for example, though other modern man-made material such as Kevlar had a similar effect, then I would have to get much closer for the spell to sense it.

If I really wanted to find the watch I would have to map out Chicago in a grid and take a drive a few blocks at a time to see if the spell sensed anything. That would be a lot of work and more time than I had hoped to spend, but the diamonds certainly made this worth trying. I sighed and tied the monkey fist to the same necklace that held my cross letting it nestle into my cleavage. I figured I would feel its movement there if it suddenly detected it sibling.

The potion was cool enough by this time to pour into another metal test tube and cap off. I made a picture of an eye in the wax seal of this one so that I would not be confused with my endurance potions. I cleaned everything up once more and went back upstairs to focus on my school work. My stomach growling though reminded me that I had not eaten since school lunch so I called in a pizza, figuring I would splurge a little.

I flipped though the next scene in the Shakespeare play, grateful for the fact that my role as Nick Bottom would not require a lot of dialogue for tomorrow. This was good because I could not really keep my mind on the text. Instead I was again playing over the day's events and starting to note a few odd inconsistencies I had not earlier when I was driving home.

Ishmael had said "Do not speak to me about the life of some Nazi bastard" when I had told him the spell using grave dirt had been used to kill someone. I realized now I had not even told him a man had been killed, much less a skinhead Nazi. But it is obvious that he knew this already even though at the time I had assumed he was looking out the window at the protesters. I also knew the old man did not have the spark of magic in him. We wizards can tell such things by shared touches if we focus on it, and 'sensitive wizards' like me feel it almost automatically without having to concentrate. In fact, I can sometimes feel it across a room if the power in the individual is strong enough.

I had not sensed any such think like that when Ishmael and I walked to my car with our arms interlaced. I noted at the time that he did have an aura of faith around him much like my father or more comparatively Father Forthill, my family's priest, did. But as a rabbi I guess I expected he would also have such a thing since he was a leader of his religion.

But still, somehow he knew about the victim even if he could not have cast the spell. Could there be another wizard involved in this mess? Or perhaps did God speak to him in much the way that Father Forthill always seems to be at the right place and time to help out my dad, such as babysitting the kids when he, and his sword, are needed elsewhere.

Ishmael had also said "They know about it" before he passed out. I have no clue what the 'it' is but I suspect this 'it' was a key element related to these events in some way. I also did not think Mr. Rothstein's family or friends wanted me stopping by to ask this follow up question regardless of how important I might think it was. And he had resisted telling a group of thugs beating upon him as well. So how was a young, perky, teen wizard going to get this answer when he did not seem to be the type likely to share?

A knock on Harry's door brought me out of these thoughts and reminded me of the pizza I had ordered. I grabbed money and headed for the door realizing I should have mentioned to the person taking the order that I only had the hundred dollar bills; those Ms. Brown had given me yesterday. Pizza guys rarely carried this level of change so I was probably not going to get to eat as soon as I had hoped. Well my luck had to change for the good sometime, right? I opened the door praying for a moment of sun and found out there was no change in the weather.

Charity Carpenter, my mother, stood on the doorstep holding my pizza, with a look of suspicion and concern on her face. These alone were enough to worry me, but the fact that there was no sign of the pizza delivery guy or his roof signed car, meaning she had let him depart safely before beginning this confrontation, was not a fact that escaped my otherwise tired mind. "Um what are you doing here?" I asked shocked quickly folding away the obvious hundred dollar bill that she noted and raised an eyebrow at without speaking. Obviously she had bigger concerns then how her teenage daughter was making money at the moment.

"Are you going to let your mother in Molly or am expected to stand out here on the step?" Just the inflections of the way she said 'mother,' as if exerting her dominance over me, put me on further defensive edge. But that being said I was not about to leave her standing there, well not at least while she is holding my pizza and I am starving.

I stepped aside without a word in part still due to shock of finding her standing here holding my pizza and in part so not to snap at her. Harry made me promise to try and get along, but it is not always easy so sometimes it is just better not to say anything I had come to realize.

Charity had been to Harry's house a few times before, and while I knew this location made her uncomfortable it did not stop her from striding in like a drill sergeant on a surprise inspection. She looked around and saw the place was in order, not that I have much to do with that, Harry's place just never seems to get dirty, and this let a good deal of wind out of her sails. She also noted the open school book and the obviously just vacated chair beside it showing that I had been studying when she arrived. Well at least that is what it appeared I had been doing since she could not tell what I had been thinking about.

She turned and looked at me again with that strange look that was not as judgmental as I was used to seeing. It almost made me fear for the worst. "Mom, did something happen to dad" voicing my inner most fear without ever having realized it myself. Since beginning my study of magic, and especially after those shadowy things started showing up at horror movies killing people, I now know far too well now what really bad things dad fought against and what they could do to him.

This made her cock her head before an honest and almost relieved smile, something I had not seen in a long time directed my way, crossed her lips and she even laughed a little out loud. "When I left you father was falling asleep in his comfortable chair in front of the television playing a History Channel special on the Crusades." She said. "I came here worried about you not because of him." She said though her tone seemed awkward.

"So what did I do now?" I asked with a bit more exacerbation in my tone than I probably should have. If you have never faced the smothering of your parents then you just will not understand how I was near the end of my rope.

She dropped the pizza box on the table and nodded for me to open it and eat. "Besides obviously working on your homework, keeping Harry's place relatively clean, and generally meeting all your responsibilities you mean?" She asked as I took a first bite of a supreme pizza. There is nothing better than Chicago pizza, no matter what those New Yorkers might think. But with that type of lead in I chewed really slowly so not to choke.

"I saw you on television today." She said just after I swallowed but thankfully before taking the next bite.

"Oh Jes…" wait blasphemy was not going to help in this situation. "Mom I was not hurt." I said not even trying to deny my involvement. Not that I really could since Elizabeth had stuck the microphone in my face twice during those events allowing for really good close-ups. Mom knew her little girl far to well to try and say it was someone else.

"I know that sweetie." She said using her pet name for me she used when I was a much younger girl. For once it did not irk me to hear it. "I half expected to find out Mr. Dresden had returned and he had somehow gotten you into the middle of something." She said with a hint of a smile but an over dramatic look around the apartment like this was his cue to appear. I smiled at this and wished if she felt such a need for drama how about she take on the roll of Nick Bottom and let my backside get a day of peace!

"No Harry is still out of town." I answered defending him. It's not that mom did not like Harry as a person, she just worried about the way dad got hurt when the two worked together. Somehow she overlooked the way dad got hurt when Harry was not part of the situation. She also ignored how Harry had put his own life at risk to protect us as well. "I just happened…"

"Molly, please…" She cut me off realizing I was likely making an exaggerate excuse, which of course I was. It's not like I planned to lie to her, but I had planned to say I had simply driven a friend there and was able to lend a hand, which through a wide angle lens was true so no extra time in confession required this week.

I chewed on another bite of pizza because I really did not know what to say. Mom was silent too as she watched me eat. I was waiting for the critique I knew was coming. "You know I was never happy with this decision to let you study magic with Harry." She said.

"Yes mom I know." I said sighing.

"No Molly you don't." She said drawing me up short. "I blame myself for all of this."

"You get your gift or curse from me Molly, not from your father." She said though Harry had hinted at this without coming out and saying as much when he explained where this skill originated from. I think mom had made him swear not to tell and I had not pressed the issue, but from what I had learned that seemed the most likely answer. "It's no different than if I had passed along a genetic heart murmur, or disease, or something." She said.

We sat in silence for a moment, the only noise was my chewing because I really was starving and I did not know what to say. I looked closer and realized the look in her eyes I had not recognized when she had come in was guilt. She felt like she had cursed her own child to a death sentence. Once again from a wide angle lens one could actually say this was true, but living it, I knew there was no way she could carry this burden.

"Mom, I saved four lives today." I said. "Five if I count my own." I added a smile and she tried to respond in kind. "If I had been born with a heart murmur or a disease they would have died." She turned away from looking at me. It was one thing to allow your husband to serve at the beck and call of God knowing he might not return. It was another to watch your child throw herself into danger in much the same way.

"You have your dad's nobility and my stubbornness." She said. "Some would say the most self-destructive parts of both of us."

I sat without saying anything for about thirty seconds as she lashed herself internally some more. "Actually, I like to think I got the best parts of the two of you." I said. "Dad's benevolence toward others before himself, and your common sense to not throw everything away on a dice roll unless you have to." I spoke softly but right to my mother's pained soul.

She looked at me again, I think finally starting to see I was no longer her baby but in part a woman she had helped to shape. And speaking of shape I was still feeling way too thin. "Have a piece of pizza with me mom?" I asked pushing the box a little toward her as I scooped up my second.

She smiled at the offering and took a piece to share the moment though she nibbled at it only half heartedly. "Of course with Dresden training you, no matter what your father or I may have given you he will probably just screw it up." She laughed and I smiled knowing she did not really mean that. It was easier though than saying the tank you that was really on her mind.

We ate mostly in silence, I cleared another two slices and she finished most of hers leaving only one last slice in the box by the time nine o'clock came around and she had to leave. "Do you want me to take this out to the dumpster when I leave?" She asked pointing to the pizza box.

"No, either Mister or Mouse, I can't figure out which, always finishes off any pizza leftovers when I am sleeping." I said still confused by how they do it without leaving even a hint of tomato sauce on any surfaces that I could find to include their faces.

We walked to the door and I opened it to let her leave. She stepped out and paused before turning around to look at me. Without saying a word she reached up behind her neck and unclasped the necklace I had seen her wear for her entire life, the one something like my own with the cross on it. Still silent she handed this to me.

"Molly, I want you to have this." She said.

"Mom, dad gave you this…"

"He gave it to me a long time ago and said it would protect me always." She said without further explanation though I knew the story about how he had actually rescued her from a dragon.

"I knew when you were born and I held you for the first time that one day I would give this to you." She continued. "I had thought perhaps on your wedding day like when your dad gave it to me. But I think you have proven that you deserve it now. I may not always show it, but I am proud of you Molly." She said and before I could respond she turned and walked to her minivan and drove away.

When the tail lights faded around a corner, I stepped back inside and looked at the very worn and simple looking silver cross she had handed to me. I could feel a lifetime of love backed by faith instilled in the power of this icon just as I could sense the magic of my shield bracelet. I swapped it out for the one she had bought me when I finished Catechism and sat in silence for another thirty minutes on the couch. Any thoughts of finishing homework by reading more Shakespeare had fled my mind.

I lay back and let the candles burn lower, slowly letting my thoughts drift off in a strange contentment. Hey I can always blame it on needing sleep. I closed my eyes and felt warm and comforted as unconsciousness found me and wrapped me into a hug.

That was until the beating on my door began again. I shook off these first vestiges of sleep and stood up groggily and went to the door. It would be just like my mother to forget something and thankfully I was still fully dressed. I opened the door and found not my mother, but Murphy standing there obviously waiting for me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I figured it would save you the drive if I stopped by on the way." She said to my sleepy look of confusion. "It looks like your dirt murderer has struck again."


	9. Chapter 9

**Axis and Allies**

**_Monday Late Evening _**

**_Chapter 9_**

"You sure you don't want me to take my own car?" I asked as Murphy walked us toward her unmarked Ford Taurus police car. The car was relatively new looking, which to me meant it carried all the latest gadgets and doohickeys available. Of course these were just begging to malfunction in the presence of a wizard. Murphy seemed to understand my hesitation and smiled to dismiss my concerns and waved me into the car.

"The car is brand new and still under warranty." She laughed. "So any damage you do to it, the dealer will have to fix. It won't cost the city of Chicago a dime."

"I'm glad you understand." I said getting in and putting on my seatbelt as she started the car.

"Oh I do not assume that I understand." She said. "But I do have enough history with Harry to expect such odd things as the price of doing business. I gave him a ride home in my Saturn once and he burned out my entire stereo system during a ten minute ride. Not just the radio mind you but all six connected speakers throughout the car as well. The shop said the only time they had ever seen such a thing was a car that had crashed into an electric pole. They were certain I had been hit by lighting. In fact that is what the even told the insurance company. Of course without a strike point the insurance company was not buying it."

The smile seemed more compelled at the end than at the beginning of her story. "That still cost me three hundred and fifty dollars to get fixed and only then because as a cop I had first dibs to buying fenced merchandise the insurance companies had replaced." She explained. "So no I certainly do not understand how you live like an anti-transformer, but I am smart enough to understand the consequences." With that we pulled off into traffic heading back I noted toward the north side of Chicago again.

I figured I would wait for Karrin to start talking as she drove rather than try and distract her while she was speeding through the city. We did not have lights and sirens on, yet Murphy drove like we did. And the fact that we blew through two speed traps without either officer attempting to stop us told me they recognized the car as a police cruiser so did not waste time on it. I'll have to ask Harry if there is some spell to make the Blue Beetle look like a Ford Taurus. Not that the Blue Beetle was capable of speeding on any road other than through a marked school zone, but hey you never know when looking like a police car might come in handy.

"I ran Ishmael Rothstein through the city law enforcement database." Murphy began reminding me that I had suggested she do this and the same with Heinrich Hummel as well. "He came up clean having lived in his same house now for just under sixty years."

"Oh well you tried." I said disappointed at the dead end.

"No I mean he came up too clean." She clarified. "He had no speeding tickets, never a witness to a crime, not even a jaywalking complaint against him." She said.

"That just means he is a law abiding citizen, right?" I asked not following her police logic.

"No, it means someone has erased his files to keep him off the books." Murphy said. "No one can be this clean in city records after almost sixty years of living here. In that time you have filed a noise complaint, had your car scratched, something." She continued on. "And every one of those results in a police report and a little note goes into your file that tells us are you a decent citizen, one of those who thinks it's fun to call the police for every little thing, or someone likely to be packing a weapon and may use it if we happen to stop you on your drive home one night."

Okay that made sense. The police would certainly want to keep track of those who had been less than polite with them in the normal course of duty so as to know what to expect next time. "Okay, so his file was erased, that still does not give us anything to go on." I reasoned. "Lack of evidence does not tell you what was erased, does it?"

"True, it just said someone had an interest in keeping Rabbi Ishmael Rothstein out of the public eye. It also almost certainly had to be a cop since we are the ones with access to this database. This time instead of adding a note, whoever erased everything from the file." She explained. "So figuring it was a cop, and perhaps a sloppy one, I logged into the city payroll accounts, something I had access to because of a case I had worked on as a lieutenant and they had never purged mu access from their files, and checked what I could of his background that way. Guess what this provided?" She asked me like a game of twenty questions.

I was really tempted to say either 'nothing' or 'he was once the mayor of Chicago' but decided to hold back my sarcasm. Maybe mom is right. Maybe some of Harry's grumpiness is rubbing off on me. "I have no idea Murph." I said politely just hoping she would explain her points in a way that I could understand better than my current level of confusion.

"It seems our Rabbi Ishmael Rothstein was employed as an assistant curator at the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry." She said like this was supposed to mean a lot to me. I guess I have some catching up to do in certain private investigator skills.

When I did not immediately make the connection she filled in the details. "Jonathan Rothstein worked at the same museum, remember?" She clarified reminding me that I did know that he had worked at one of the Chicago museums according to Ms. Brown's story because that is where the Eric's friends had singled him out. I did not remember if she had stated it was this exact museum but obviously Murphy had confirmed it herself so I had no reason to doubt this. Still there could be lots of reasons for this coincidence.

"So maybe his grandfather got him the job." I reasoned trying not to make more out of something than there was.

"Oh he certainly did." Murphy answered. "In fact the grandson was employed in the exact same position that his grandfather had worked for his entire career."

"And this is odd because…"

"Molly no one works the same job for nearly forty years without getting promoted or moving to another section or something." She explained. "City government workers especially are protected by powerful trade unions who make sure under the rules of longevity those employed the longest are moved up before they retire unless they get busted like I did in order to ensure better retirements for their members. Hell it happens with us cops. There is no way Rabbi Rothstein could have stayed in that job for all those years under normal conditions. His years would have seen him retiring as the head curator at least. I checked into it. That would have netted him almost double his current retirement pay for the rest of his life. Now why would anyone want to give up all that money?" She asked.

"They do not want the responsibility?" I offered.

"Maybe." She said. "Or maybe in this case the job they have is too important to give away to just anyone. Maybe you hold it until your grandson can take over." She said.

"What the heck could be so important at a museum dedicated to machines and stuff?" I asked.

"I have no idea." Murphy answered. "But I plan to stop by Mr. Rothstein's home tomorrow and ask him that very question."

I nodded to Murphy and made a mental note. I was free in the afternoon tomorrow so I decided maybe I should check out the museum itself and see if I could figure it out from that angle. Murphy would not want me questioning Mr. Rothstein or even calling him again as this might interfere in her investigation, but she could hardly complain if I took a look around a very public museum. I was thankfully that most of the exhibits would be dedicated to old, rather than modern, technology so I hopefully would not do too much wizard type damage there.

"Are you familiar with the name Simon Wiesenthal?" She asked pulling me back from my own mulling and planning of future events to the here and now. The name was one I was familiar with, probably one I heard in school, but no associations immediately jumped to mind of who he was or what he may have done.

"Sounds familiar." Was all I said.

"Well like your friend Rabbi Rothstein, Wiesenthal was also a Holocaust survivor." She said making something click in the back of my head. "Before the war, World War II that is, Mr. Wiesenthal may have been an engineer or an architect, or perhaps both since there is a lot of conflicting data about his early life. The fact that there is such confliction of so public a person smells similar to the missing data from your friend Ishmael."

"But what does this man have to do with Mr. Rothstein, except that they were both Holocaust survivors?"

"I will get to that but I need to tell you about a few more odd details and then I need to ask a favor of you." I merely nodded so that she would proceed to her story.

"Well, right after I got done checking out the city records on our good Rabbi Ishmael my phone starts ringing. Not my work phone on my desk mind you, but instead my personal cell phone with its unlisted number that I carry in my pocket." She continued.

"The number came up blocked even though I have caller ID." She said. "This has happened before with wrong numbers so I answered it with a simple 'Hello?' figuring someone had dialed wrong."

"The voice on the other end was as cool, calm, and calculating as they come." Karrin continued. "He said only this: 'Sergeant Murphy if you ever want to have another chance at those lieutenant's bars again you will stop looking into Ishmael Rothstein immediately! Close down your investigation and go look into that murdered cheerleader out in Hyde Park. That is more in your line of work sergeant.'"

"I asked 'Who is this' but all I got was a sigh and sound of the phone being disconnected." She relayed. "It was a bit disconcerting also because the cheerleader case had only landed on my desk four hours earlier. Whoever called me sure knew a lot about me."

"Who could possibly know you were looking up Rabbi Rothstein in the computer?" I asked. "Could it be the cop who had erased all the files in your database?"

"Yeah I wondered that too and after a while I have to say I do not think so. The cops who might know what is on my desk are nowhere near as chilling calculating as the voice on the phone had been."

"From your explanation I have this feeling you did not take the caller's advice?"

Murphy looked at me. "Molly if you think I will let some heavy breathing guy with too much time on his hands try to intimidate me from solving a case I have been assigned they you do not know me very well." I had seen this same look Murphy was sporting, a dare to the world, on Harry's face, though he was not one for making this kind of speech he just did what had to get done. It was no wonder why two strong personalities like Karrin and Harry could respect and even like each other. I guess it was either they shared mutual respect or they would kill one another one day.

"So I take it you did something then." I said prompting her to continue with her story.

"I did indeed." She answered. "I called a guy I know over at the FBI and asked him to run Rabbi Ishmael Rothstein through their computers. The feds have a completely different database on people of interest, and I figured if someone was calling me to say stay away, then the feds would likely know why this was important."

"I thought Harry said you don't like the feds much."

"I don't." Karrin replied. "They usually just barge in and take over a case, but I had a date with one of their special agents who is not so bad." She said in a sister conspiratorial way. "Actually, the guy is not bad, the date was horrible. He took me shooting and then got upset when I beat him in three out of three matches with both pistol and shotgun." She laughed. "Molly, if I can pass along any advice on guys it is that sometime you need to let them win to stroke their egos. I won the bet, but suddenly dinner afterwards went from a nice, expensive Italian restaurant he had been talking up all week to a little Scottish sounding place."

"That doesn't sound so bad. It is still a foreign restaurant right?" I prefer Italian too but hey if the date was driving.

"Yeah the Scottish place I am referring to is McDonalds."

I looked at her and tried hard not to laugh, but she smiled and I let out a roar. "Well that certainly goes a long way toward making me not mind Harry not allowing me to date." I said still laughing.

"What?" She asked surprised. "Why would he demands that you do not date? Is it just because he doesn't or does he have some issue with women in general?"

Okay this was a little awkward. It's not like I ever had a big sister to talk to like this, and no way I was ever going to even broach the subject with my mother. I had talked somewhat to my girlfriends but I really did not have a whole lot of them that I trusted enough to talk about dating in any serious sense. But Karrin's cop's eyes staring into me said I was not going to get away without some sort of explanation.

"You know how we wizards have this detrimental effect on electronic gizmos?" I asked using the automatic window to let some air into the car. Of course it died halfway down, making my point for me to Murphy, but not good in the greater picture sense considering the weather forecast had called for rain tonight.

"Yeah, I uh sort of know about that." She said shaking her head. I could have sworn she mumbled something about thank God for the warranty. I mumbled sorry in return but she just waved her hand to tell me to get on with my story.

"Well Harry says that while I am in my apprenticeship it is really a bad time for me to date. Part of it has to do with losing focus and concentration which I am learning is really important in casting spells correctly but that is not all of it." I tried to explain. "You have seen that Harry's magic is more physical based; casting fire, breaking things, etc. So when he gets into a fight or other physically stressing environment the power starts to well up in him. Of course he has years of experience controlling it so the magic still does what he commands, well for the most part at least." There were a few odd damage marks in our training area that I could not account for and he would not discuss though he looked a little sheepish.

"See my magic is more senses based therefore things that affect the senses or emotions tends to work me up in the same way." I explained trying not to say too much because I felt I was right on the edge of blushing and that she, being a girl, would understand without having to be graphic. "And I do not have the same level of control over the magic yet to make this safe."

"Really?" Karrin asked surprised. "You mean you could be in a hot make out session in the back of the car or sneaking a quickie in your parent's room and you might fry your partner?" Okay so much for the whole girl's can share unspoken emotions thing. I guess I really should have considered that Karrin works mostly around guys so she probably had picked up a few of their bad habits.

That was it, I could feel the burning that said the blush was in full bloom on my cheeks. How the hell did we get from discussing old men, which seems to have become the bane of my existence lately, to my sex life, or rather my lack of a sex life! "Yeah it is supposed to be something like that I guess." I said trying to deflect.

"You guess?" She asked not looking at me as she made a left turn. "You mean you never…"

"Can we just get back to the Wiesenthal story you were telling me about?" I said in obvious embarrassment without looking at her. She glanced my way then went back to focusing on her driving.

"Oh." She said putting the pieces together and suddenly remembering she was a woman and not a hairy knuckled guy. "Okay, anyway even though our date did not go so well, nothing says don't expect me to call you tomorrow better than a Big Mac meal, we still work together professionally when we have to." Karrin continued as the burning in my cheeks slowly subsided. "I went down to the diner where you had reached me earlier and used their phone to call my friend and I gave him the name. I had a quick piece of pie and before I was done he called me back."

"Murphy what the hell have you gotten involved in?" He whispered into the phone as if afraid he was going to be overheard by others in his office. For all I know that was a real threat so I did not ask him to speak up only listened as carefully as I could.

"So you got something?" I asked.

"Not in criminal." He replied. "Your boy is as clean as they come, too clean if you get my meaning."

"Yeah that is what I saw in the local files too." I told him.

"For the hell of it I checked the law enforcement eyes only espionage files and your friend's name is in there along with a host of interesting characters." He said and then passed along the jackpot. "I sent you a copy of that file to your e-mail, but do me a favor and delete it after you read it." He asked and I agreed before hanging up.

"I probably should have warned him someone had been monitoring my computer and telephone on this case but I had thought it was better not to make such a big thing out of this if I did not have to." She explained as we had to stop for a traffic light. "I paid for my snack and raced back to the office. Luckily I was able to print the file before someone found a way to delete it from my computer as if it had never existed." She said before reaching behind her, grabbing a folder and handing me the results.

I look at thirty or so double-sided pages of data with photos and all but knew I did not have the time to read them as we were likely getting close to the murder scene. Karrin had not intended me to read it now because she kept explaining what she had deduced while I paged through everything that was here. I noted after these FBI pages there were also copies of the police reports from the murdered Nazi's apartment from last night, Jonathan Rothstein's apparent suicide last week, which included his college graduation picture as well as photos from the accident site, and of course the case file from the missing dirt call at his grave which also was heavily photographed. It seemed obvious to me that Murphy was not taking any chances on losing all her data now that someone powerful was aware of what she was doing. The paper copies were her insurance in case the rest of the records went the way of Rabbi Ishmael Rothstein's police file.

"So what does it say? I asked.

"It says your friend Rabbi Ishmael Rothstein is almost assuredly Mossad." She answered as she made another turn.

"Mossad?" The term was unfamiliar to me.

"They are the Israeli equivalent of both the FBI and the CIA rolled into one with some assassin skills to boot." She explained. "When some terrorists killed the Israeli Olympic team in Munich in 1972, Mossad hit teams were assigned to the case and tracked down many of the perpetrators and killed them quite publicly in response."

"So you are saying Ishmael was an assassin?" I asked. "I'm sorry but the old man I had spent a few hours with was not way Bond, James Bond, in anyone's book."

"Not according to the feds." She answered. "When the Mossad was stood up after World War II and the creation of Israel it seems one special unit was tasked with tracking down ex-Nazis who had escaped Germany at the end of the war. While the new nation itself was forced to focus on and fight three wars with its Arab neighbors, this small group of men and women were given this task of bringing these war criminals to justice and told to focus solely on this and nothing else. The team's leader, if you can believe the FBI's files on the subject since all other sources that have done research result in conflicting data, was Simon Wiesenthal."

"And Ishmael was part of this group?" I asked.

"So it would seem to me and the feds." Karrin replied. "He certainly fits the profile."

"What profile?"

"According to the little our government knows, Simon hired for his inner circle only those of Jewish descent who had actually survived incarceration in the German concentration camps." Murphy explained as we came up on the scene of the crime and she pulled in to stop behind a parked police car with lights flashing. She turned the engine off but made no effort to get out of the car just yet.

"Your friend Ishmael was part of this group, at least at the beginning. He was a survivor from the Auschwitz concentration camp so fit the Wiesenthal profile for recruitment." She said. "Wiesenthal was hunting Nazi's just as the history states, but it appears he was not hunting random Nazis. Somewhere he acquired a list of specific Nazi's he was looking for. If our records are right he was hunting those who were part of a group responsible for 'The Necessary Ending and The New Beginning.' Our files are pretty sure that these terms were somehow purposely mistranslated over time into the infamous 'Final Solution' and meant to refer only to the Holocaust though what little data our intelligence agencies have collected since have determined there was something else going on in these camps as well."

"From the end of the war for almost a decade your friend Ishmael was part of the team that helped track down Adolf Eichmann, the man responsible for running transportation of the 'The Necessary Ending and The New Beginning elements." To stay behind the scenes and not let the other Nazis from this group know they were being hunted specifically the capture of Eichmann was completed by other Mossad agents, as were the captures of at least a dozen others on this Nazi program list. Again, piecing together what little we have all we really know is that all those captured were high-level Nazis and all these Nazis worked directly in the death camps. If the records are right, supposedly the only one that escaped their net was Dr. Josef Mengele, the German doctor who performed some type of medical experimentation on the Jews in the concentration camps. He died in the 1970s in Paraguay we think."

"Wait a minute you are talking about this group hunting Nazis for thirty years." I did the math and it did not make sense to me. "But I thought you said that Ishmael worked for forty years or more at the museum. Was that all a cover story?" I asked

"No it wasn't. Wiesenthal's group operated for all that time, and may still be operating today." Karrin answered. "In September of 1954 Ishmael apparently gave up his membership and settled down here in Chicago. And from what I can tell from the FBI records, other than some regular phone calls with members of Wiesenthal's group, he has not left Chicago in all those years. No vacation, no going to the funerals of deceased friends, hell he has not even travelled back to Israel as his religion commands. Oddly enough it was right after retiring and taking his assistant curator post at the museum that he also became a rabbi." She said.

"Maybe he found forgiveness." I said. "My dad says even the most wicked of men will sometimes see the error of their ways. Ishmael did not strike me as evil, maybe between the war and a decade with this group he just simply had enough with killing and death and decided to settle down and raise a family dedicated to life."

"I doubt it." Karrin replied. "First of all he is considered on the conservative fringe of Judaism, one of the real fire and brimstone Old Testament types of an eye for an eye. I have trouble seeing him stop all that suddenly with everything else I know about him."

I had to agree with that assessment. In the very short time that I dealt with Ishmael he did not seem one to forgive a slight easily. He certainly did not find acceptance with his grandson's death. I doubted watching hundreds of thousands of Jews killed right in front of him would be any easier to accept. But that did not answer the greater questions hanging out there.

"So why do you think he stopped hunting and stayed in Chicago all these years?" I asked.

"I am not sure though you just gave me another idea." Karrin replied. "Hunters often stop stalking their prey when they find a good place to set up shop and let the prey come to them. Maybe your friend Ishmael was placed here to wait for the prey to come to him. Perhaps there is something here in Chicago that he knows they will be after sooner or later."

Thankfully I was not looking at her when she said this but Ishmael's last words to me of 'They know about it' seemed to confirm Murphy's own deductions. Of course only Ishmael knew what this mysterious 'it' likely was which did not do me any good at the moment. And without asking him directly I was not likely going to find out.

Except, he said the skinheads that had attacked him also knew. That meant I could get my answers from them maybe and keep Ishmael out of it. Murphy would be happy because I did not go talk with him and compromise her investigation, and at the same point I could find out what was really going on and give her something she could use.

"Hey Molly I still need a favor from you if you do not mind." Murphy said drawing my attention back to her.

"What's up?"

"I'd like you to hold onto that file for me." She said pointing to the one in my lap. "If I keep it I have a feeling it will disappear. Maybe my car or apartment will get broken into to find it. I do not know. But no one would suspect you of having it so you could keep it safe, at least for a few days so I can wrap this up. Will that be okay with you?"

"Sure." I said knowing I could look over the file myself too. I opened up my backpack to slide it inside and noted that I had forgotten to take the Katz Manuscript out of it. Being old leather it was sort of obvious and Murphy noted it right away.

"That is the book I was having checked out for you." I explained. "Turned out it was nothing."

"That is the book that you showed to Rabbi Rothstein?" She asked me. "And HE told you it meant nothing?"

My God she was right, whoops sorry for the blasphemy. But still if Ishmael did have cause to not speak the truth about his life and all of these events, then the book might actually be something important after all. "Good point Murphy, maybe it is important."

"But you can't read it?" She asked.

"No but I have a teacher at school, my history teacher in fact, Mr. Goldman who is Jewish, and maybe he will be able to tell me what it says." I answered back. "At least we can get an uncompromised second opinion that it is nothing." I said and she agreed. I closed my backpack now holding both the book and her files. It seems detective work was going to give me a sore back at the very least.

We got out of the car and headed toward the building where the murder had taken place. It was slightly more upscale than last night, but not by a whole lot more. Rent was likely paid by the week rather than the day. Less porn shops and more drugstores in the neighborhood too I noticed.

"Sergeant we may have a witness." One of the uniformed officers talking to an older woman off to the side spotted Murphy and called to her. She changed her direction like a peregrine falcon on the attack and I had to rush to stay up beside her.

"Ma'am, can you tell me what you saw?" Murphy asked without so much as an introduction. I looked at the little old woman and the hand cart she was pulling behind her filled with groceries so knew she was not someone living on the street but likely a resident of this neighborhood. That meant she would likely know the other residents from outsiders.

"As I told the young man I was walking home from the store when the guy you are looking for passed right by me." She said nodding to the officer who had called us over. "In the dark he had seemed no different than any other young man, except he was dressed all in black, and even his face was shadowed and hidden."

"Could you describe him?" Murphy asked.

"Not really." She answered. "I saw him first at a distance between two streetlights but then the wheel of my cart got caught in a crack in the sidewalk and I was more focused on trying to pull it free and not having much success." She explained pointing to the wheel which looked a bit more bent than it should be.

"Did he stop and help you?"

"No, but he bumped into my cart on the edge of it which pushed the whole thing backwards nearly five feet and out of the crack right." She pointed to a spot about ten feet away. Something odd caught my eye and I wandered to it while listening to the rest of Murphy's questions.

"Did he say anything to you?" Murphy asked. "Apologize or tell you to get out of the way?"

"No nothing at all. Not even that he was sorry. He just kept walking and entered the building." She said. "I had to reach down and try to straighten my wheel somewhat because the cart would not move the way it was. Just as I was finishing I heard shots coming from inside the building…eight of them I think…and then some sort of screaming. I moved out of the way and within a few minutes I heard your sirens coming this direction."

I bent down and saw not only the obvious crack that had caught the old woman's wheel, but also a handful of very familiar topsoil like dirt right beside it. I guess the guy carrying it had spilled some in the accidental encounter. It certainly seemed to link to last night's murder.

"Did the guy you saw leave in that period of time?" Murphy asked.

"No, no one came out of the building." The old woman replied.

"Okay so he went out another way or he is still in the building." Murphy said to the uniformed officer who had called her over. "Did you set up a perimeter?" The officer nodded.

"From what we can tell no one went out the back door either sergeant. It's locked from the inside, which violates fire safety codes, but a place like this is a deathtrap anyway." He said.

"Okay, so hopefully the killer is still inside. Get some more squads down here and then we will start sweeping the building floor by floor." She turned back to the old woman. "Ma'am is there anything about this guy that you remember that could help us identify him? Anything about his face, his clothing, his hair, anything like that?"

"Only that as he walked away I noticed he was wearing one of those funny little round religious hats." She said.

"A skullcap?" Murphy asked.

"Yeah that is the one." The old woman replied. "Mildred's son wears one when he comes to visit."

"Ma'am, the guy wearing the cap, do you have any idea how old he was?" Murphy asked. "Was he your age?"

"Heaven's no!" She said. "He was much younger. He walked a little stiff for his age, but he was only in his twenties or so I think."

I could tell Murphy was disappointed. Had this been a ninety year old man in a skullcap then we likely would have been heading out to see if Mr. Rothstein was at home this evening. The fact that the witness said the murderer was so young, far too young for a mistake in age, meant Ishmael was most certainly not the killer Murphy was seeking.

"Thank you very much. That will be all for now ma'am." Murphy said. "Please provide this officer with your name and address and that will be helpful. We might need to contact you about further questions we may have later." She pulled a business card from her shirt pocket. "This is my number. Please feel free to call me if you think of anything else that would be useful to our investigation."

Murphy turned away and I followed at her heels, entering the building and thankfully staying on the first floor this time. The room right near the front door we arrived at looked strikingly similar to the one from last night in both its barrenness and the single, rather than double, Nazi flag proudly tacked to the wall.

"Glad you are here Murphy." A cop carrying a camera said as Karrin entered. "I have taken all the preliminary photos of the scene but wanted to give you a chance to look things over before we began to clean the victim up and take more pictures."

"Thank Bill." Murphy said and did a quick walk around the apartment in concentric circles until she reached the victim lying on the floor. The notable differences from last night my less than well trained eye picked up on were the eight or so bullet holes in the walls of the apartment, the spent shell casings on the floor, and the odd shaped handgun lying near the victim's body.

"Looks like a Lugar." Murphy said.

"Yes it is sergeant." The photographer replied. "In fact I think it's a real German one and not one of the cheap copies made after the war." Murphy only nodded at this and kept looking around.

"Did you see any signs of blood other than the victim's?" Murphy asked.

"Not a one sergeant." He replied. "The guy must have been a terrible shot to have missed eight times at close range."

"Bad luck for him." Murphy said now standing and looking at the body.

Unlike last night's murder victim, this one was lying on the floor and the pile of dirt, the same type as last night's, was this time covering his chest, most of his arms, and all but the top of his shaved head. Once more it looked like someone had just poured a really big wheelbarrow full of topsoil on the victim after he had been killed, but for what purpose this served I had no clue. The one exposed arm though, the left one again in fact, had been carved with a small paring knife in the exact same way as the victim from last night. Now I am not an expert in police matters, but that seemed pretty obvious to me that this was certainly the same killer.

"Do we have the victim's name?" Murphy asked.

"The lease says Rudolph Himmler." The other cop replied. "I ran it and this is a known alias for a Joe Bob Stanton who did a nickel at Joliet and then came out a reformed Nazi by the name of Rudolph Himmler."

"Glad he took full advantage of the taxpayer's generosity to chart a new course for his life." Murphy said making the other cop smile. She leaned down as she put some latex gloves on and began to remove the dirt from around the victim's face. I really did not care to take a look, knowing Murphy would tell us if the mouth and nose were stuffed full again. I already knew that this is what we would find so I tried looking around the room for anything else that would catch my eye. Perhaps a wizard might note things that were normal to the rest of the world.

"Wow, looks like our skinhead was not satisfied with just a head shave." She said. "It looks like he even burned away his eyebrows."

That last statement caught me by surprise and I turned to look confirming exactly what I had somehow already known. The guy lying here dead on the floor was the same one I had flamed just a few short hours ago. "Hey Murphy." I said drawing her attention. "I really need to talk to you right now."


	10. Chapter 10

**Axis and Allies**

_**Tuesday **_

_**Chapter 10**_

I took Murphy aside and quickly explained to her my connection with the body. While this was not so good for me, even though Murphy knew that I had nothing to do with the murder, she still told me not to say anything about it to anyone. Since I had no desire to spend the rest of the night in an interrogation room I of course agreed.

This connection information though was probably the most useful I had given to her about this case, perhaps with the sole exception of having her run Ishmael through their computers. With this relationship now completely established, Murphy had the phone records run for both murder victims and found that besides calling one another there were a few other numbers they had in common. Checking these out with the phone company gave us the names and billing addresses to the other three members of the Brotherhood of the Bent Cross. She also learned over the next hour that all three of course had extensive criminal rap sheets and had done time together at Joliet prison just like our current victim.

The building sweep for the murderer turned up nothing, which I must say did not surprise me. There was no one living in the building that fit the description the witness had provided, and the consented searches of apartments found no one else currently in residence that did so either. By midnight when Murphy dropped me off back at Harry's again we were no closer to figuring out who the wizard or necromancer that was killing Nazi's were, though we both were pretty sure we had a line on his or her next three victims.

I will admit that I was completely exhausted again by the time I pushed Mister off his normal spot on the bed and fell asleep again in my clothes. I was even too tired to dream, which considering my day was probably a good thing. I had cast battle spells and run myself ragged on a very basic breakfast and a pizza as my only sustenance. My body demanded sleep.

Speaking of which, though, I did note that not only was the last of the pizza gone, but the box was missing as well and my school books I had left out to study were all neatly stacked. I could only figure that Murphy had eaten the last slice and cleaned up, throwing the box in the dumpster in the two minutes or so it had taken me to grab my coat and backpack. I was too tired to even try to determine why she had gone to this effort.

I was just reaching a very comfortable place when this banshee-like caterwauling began right beside my head. I jolted awake, my senses seeking danger as the screaming beside me began for a second time. My instinct was to push my limits and try for another fireball like the one I had cast earlier today to attack first against this hell spawn that dared to challenge me. Instead I did the sensible thing and picked up the phone.

"Molly, it's your mother." Alright, she was not a true hell spawn but still. "It's five in the morning and you have to get up now to be at school on time today."

"Gargleglug…" I said, or something very similar.

"What was that dear?" How could my mother sound so awake at this ungodly hour?

"I said alright already I am up." I growled.

"Okay dear I will see you here at home at six to make sure you make it for the bus." She said and hung up.

I laid there for a moment and argued with myself on whether ten more minutes would really kill anyone. I had just decided it would not and was closing my eyes when that god-awful sound began again. I yanked the phone, angry this time and screamed. "What?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were not still lying in bed dear." My mother said knowing that was exactly what I was doing. This reminded me to put on my to do checklist the need to question Harry whether the umbilical cord has some sort of magical connect for life. At this moment in time I had to assume that was the answer because her knowing me well enough to know I was still in bed just did not sit right on four hours of sleep. Gosh, I will end up using all my private investigator money on Botox treatments if this pattern of minimal sleep does not change soon.

I tossed my schoolbooks into my backpack, not at all ready for a day as Nick Bottom but really having no other choice in the matter. Unfortunately it was only Tuesday so I did not have my history class with Mr. Goldman to show him the book and ask for his insights. I could maybe hunt him down in the teacher's lounge but that hardly seemed like the best option if I wanted to keep what I was doing a secret. If the book turned out to be a spell book of necromancy it would be really hard to explain to Mr. Goldman, and much worse if there were other teachers standing nearby also. And as bad as all that might seem to you on the face of things, consider the added issues created by the fact I was attending a Catholic private school. Yep, patience in this case was a far better answer than rushing into this particular trap.

I made sure Mister and Mouse had food and water. Mister did not feel my departure required his acknowledgement but Mouse came by holding his leash in his mouth to remind me of my other more pressing responsibilities to Harry. Note to self number two, design a magical pooper scooper so that I do not have to do this job myself at five-thirty in the morning. And really, beyond pointing out Mouse is two hundred pounds and the city having a very strict clean up after your pet law I will leave it to your fertile imagination to work out my complaints with this chore.

I made it home in time for breakfast, and thank God mom had made coffee. This was quickly becoming a favorite drink of mine on most mornings, and I considered it as precious as life's blood for days like today. Mom's inquisitive stare at how I looked without makeup and still wearing yesterday's clothes thankfully did not result in further conversation. Having her proud of me yet still acting like my mom was a dichotomy I was not prepared to address on so little sleep.

I grabbed a very quick shower, only warm water was left after servicing my other brothers and sisters, but compared to Harry's cold showers it felt delightful. Add to that a few strategic placements of light makeup, since the nuns frowned on too much, and the face looking back in the mirror did not look nearly as exhausted as I actually felt. My oversized sunglasses served to hide my bloodshot red eyes and still made me look cool so was a final perfect accessory for me today.

The half day of school had not major shocks and I did manage to stay awake through all my subjects. I should note that I did get half a dozen greetings as 'Nick' as I roamed the halls between classes, but luckily for me and the continued existence of others no one made a grab for my ass. In truth I doubted I could actually call up any magic other than my basics anyway so it was good all around that the situation was avoided completely.

By lunchtime I was feeling almost myself again due to high loads of calories, especially sugary calories, intake I had been consuming from vending machines almost nonstop. I checked out of school, this time with a claim of having to go to the Museum of Science and Industry to do more research. It took the vice principal's approval this time, even though I only had study halls remaining to get the permission to leave the building, and he only granted it upon making me promise to bring back half a dozen of their current event fliers. That sealed my course. I had been considering heading home first for a quick nap, but because the museum was the only place I could acquire these advertisements I now had to ensure I went there before coming to school tomorrow.

I grabbed a quick snack at Taco Bell, oh yeah word for the aspiring wizards – avoid drive-throughs because they never work for you, and was happy to see lunchtime traffic was not too horrible as I gobbled down a pair of burrito supremes and an extra large Pepsi. Unfortunately, the latter ran right through me so I really needed to go when I pulled up at the museum, so badly in fact I paid the twelve dollar parking fee at the site rather than park a block away for free.

As urgent as the call of my bladder was in my mind, thankfully I maintained just enough sense and forethought to look where I was going. Had I not I would have bumped smack dab into a mother and her young son coming out of the building and in doing so would not have noticed that climbing the stairs just a few steps ahead of me was Heinrich Hummel. Now I am certainly a fan of coincidences, but the fact that the old man who had desperately needed to talk to Ishmael right before all hell broke loose yesterday happened to also be here was one happenstance just a little hard to swallow considering the city had a population of nearly three million people.

I ordered my bladder on hold, actually seeing him clenched me up a bit all over so that was not much of a current issue, and stopped on the stairs to pretend to tie my shoes so that he could get further ahead of me and I would not end up directly behind him when we both paid for admission. Once again kismet struck because in doing this and being on the stairs I happened to note that someone behind me immediately changed their own course as if my actions had spooked them. I looked quickly back before the figure, a man, ducked around the marble staircase but the only thing I could make out was his freshly shaved head.

"Oh crap!" I said to myself. Here I was just beginning to think I might follow Heinrich and see what he was up to when one of the skinheads was doing the same to me. I wondered if how long he had been doing this. I am certain he would have been spotted hanging around the school, but it's not like it would be all that hard to park somewhere and wait for the Blue Beetle to leave the parking lot. Harry's car may have survived run-ins with some serious nasties and lived to fight another day, but subtle it is not. Yep I really need to try and figure out a veil illusion to make it look like an unmarked Ford Taurus police car.

"Well now Molly here you are without a plan again." I could hear Harry's voice taunting me for my carelessness. "Shut up Harry, I was only going to the museum. There is no way even you would have thought a multi-layered attack plan was required for a simple look around." Thankfully my own interior monologue voice seemed to quell that part of my conscious that spoke like Harry. Well, except for the annoying tsk, tsk, tsk sound to spur me into greater action and come up with some sort of a way to get control over all of this.

I looked up the stairs and was thankful to see Heinrich was finishing paying for his ticket; the number of people seeking entrance at museum at this hour seemed relatively light. Thankfully Heinrich showed no sign of looking back to see if I were following so either he was unaware, or he was the bait and it was his job to seem oblivious and maneuver me to a place of their choosing. Wanna bet which one of those two options a cute, perky high school wizard thought he was doing?

I came up the stairs at a normal pace wishing I had worn a ball cap to cover my rather distinctive blonde hair. Note to self, girls may like to dye their hair blonde, but if I was going to continue this whole private eye thing I really needed to consider another color than the 'Hey look at me, I'm a sunny blonde' tint that my genetics graced me with. I think a subdued Goth look was almost definitely in my immediate future.

I made it up to the top of the steps and kept the cashier's cage between me and Heinrich because he really did not walk all that fast. As I paid my fifteen dollars for admission, and was taking a small handful of brochures for school when I did note that the reflective surface of the booth allowed me to look straight down the stairs and see a telltale bald head peeking around the corner below. This reflection might explain why Heinrich had never looked back if indeed he was bait because he had been able to watch me the whole time anyway.

I followed the old man into the main level of the museum. While he was slow, he certainly showed no sign of doubt or hesitation about his course. Just inside the facility he made an immediate right turn and waited for the elevator near the front entrance. As he pushed the button I used the time to scoot around behind him and merge with greater numbers of people in the main area, lessening my chance of being noticed if I appeared to be part of a crowd rather than on my own.

I moved behind one of the four major centerpiece displays in this level of the museum and acted like I was looking at it with interest, but really this just provided me a good observation point to keep an eye on the entry way and the elevator Heinrich was standing at without standing out as much as other such places would require. Once I knew where my two associates were I might be better able to decide on a good plan of action. "Did you hear me Harry?" I asked that little voice in my mind. "I said I was going to try and form a plan." Of course he did not respond.

The light on the elevator signaling it had arrived lit up at the same time a gunshot, or at least what I thought was a gunshot, echoed from directly behind me. I spun around with my shield bracelet raised, certain another of the skinheads had somehow gotten behind me but found instead that my luck was still running true to form. Somehow, of all my possible choices, I had ended up in the middle of the Bangs, Flashes, and Fire demonstration area of the museum where a staff member showed the wonders of early gunpowder chemistry to a group of school children. The fact that he had scared me enough to almost wet my… speaking of which that was one problem I better deal with now that I had the chance. Thankfully the ladies' room was just a little further on and to the left. I doubted my pursuer, now buying his own ticket I saw, would be bold enough to follow me in there if he did happen to notice me entering.

I took care of the immediate call of nature and in passing by the mirror decided a quick modification to my wardrobe was in order. I took off the grey school coat and tied it around my waist leaving my white blouse exposed instead. I could not do anything about the skirt I was wearing so I just accepted that. Last though then I pulled my hair up and into a pony tail to try and confuse anyone seeing me from behind since my hair had been out and framing my face up until this point.

On the off chance that I had been spotted by Mr. Skinhead entering the ladies' room I called up a quick veil like the one I had used at the police station only…, wow was it really only two days ago? Thankfully the door opened at that moment and an eight year old girl entered giving me just enough space to duck out after her, literally unseen. I could keep the spell going for a little while but having not slept well for two nights the effort was more taxing than it usual was. I did a quick sweep of this main area of the floor and found no one observing me. Feeling safer, I moved to a mostly concealed corner and released the spell to reappear. Thankfully there were no screams of 'Where did you come from' to applaud my arrival.

In my sweep I had found no sign of the guy tailing me at all even when I got back near the entrance. Likely this meant he probably had moved on to another level or one of the outlying exhibits on this level. Okay then, looks like the three of us were going to be playing a game of Marco Polo here in the Chicago museum with the winner spotting the others first getting the chance to call the shots. I tried not to think too hard on what the loser, especially if it were me, would get.

I cut across past the NetWorld exhibit dedicated to the Internet and caught the terminals all flickering, but thankfully not dying completely as I hurried past. I then scooted through the Whispering Gallery, then past the Imaging Technology section, where my luck ran out and I heard some distinctive popping and smelled smoke. Sorry about that. Finally I made my way to the escalator over by the crime lab.

I had selected this one from on the map brochures I carried because almost all the others were in the center of the museum allowing for a person to be recognized coming down, especially since I still had on my Catholic school girl skirt, before I might see who was watching for me. This escalator being far off the beaten path put almost the rest of the museum in front of me if the maps saying 'You are Here' were accurate.

For a little extra insurance I also took enough time while everyone was rushing to see the smoking electronics in the Imaging Technology room to call up another veil and ride down the escalator that way. It turned out these cautions were not required as there were no old men or Nazi wannabes on the lower level where I got off so I entered the currently empty Group Center and released the veil again.

I stopped and took a few deep breaths. These spells were ones I was very familiar and comfortable with but my body was obviously tired from the last two nights of poor sleep. The spells that I could keep up for an hour or more normally, were now after just a few minutes making me pant for breath. How the hell Harry kept going into spell battles when exhausted I have to say impressed the hell out of me now that I had to try and do it myself.

Alright, I had my wind back; well most of it anyway. It was time to start hunting again. Gotta admit this adrenaline stuff can be pretty addictive! I headed out of the Group center and made my way along into the "Ships Through the Ages" display, thankful that there was no way my wizard's curse was going to short out a Viking longship.

I stuck to the edges of the crowds, far enough away so the members did not think I was intruding, yet close enough to seem part of these groups by others looking at us. I hoped if one of the two noticed me they would skip right past, recalling that I had come here alone and not as part of a tour group.

"Ma'am, can I help you?" A voice said from right behind me nearly making me jump out of my skin. "You look like you are looking for someone or trying not to be seen."

I spun around expecting to be face to face with one of the skinheads but found instead I was face to face with Mr. Hottie from yesterday. He was also dressed exactly the same in a dark polo and khaki pants as yesterday, though now up close I could see the logo on the shirt said Museum of Science and Industry.

"It's you!" We both said in exact synchronization. This personal moment of harmony we shared was followed up by smiles for each of us, though I started to wonder if that might be my own emotions projecting upon him. Not like I was going to complain mind you; he had a wonderful smile.

"What are you doing here?" I asked first, which in immediate retrospect was one of those questions that hardly needed answering but I was looking for anything to say; so of course I chose something totally stupid. Please don't think of me as a living blonde joke, I am better than this when I have had a normal period of sleep to rely on and Nazi thugs are not trying to sneak up on me for god knows why.

"Um, I think that is my line." He said pointing to his obviously logoed polo shirt.

"Yeah, I guess you are right." I said sheepishly but he still smiled and made it seem okay. "Originally I was coming here to check this place out. See a guy who worked here died last week…"

"Oh you mean Jonathan?" He asked.

"Yeah, of course you would know him."

"Actually I never met him." Mr. Hottie said making me confused with his answer. "See I was hired just this week to replace him. Had he not committed suicide then I would not have this job. I'm very sorry but were you a friend of his, or a friend of the family?"

"No nothing like that." I said. "It was just one of those stories that seemed odd to me so I had to come down here and see for myself why a guy with so much going for him would kill himself."

"You sound like a reporter." He laughed, but there was obviously an undertone of seriousness to the question.

"Nope, not at all." I said. "I'm just an inquisitive high school senior in fact."

He smiled at this. "My name is Curtis. I'm a history major over at the City Colleges of Chicago."

"History?" I asked. Not something I saw myself getting interested in by hey if Curtis were my teacher I'd certainly make it to class everyday and sit right up front. "I guess that explains the job at a museum."

Yep." He said. "Plus it helps pay tuition."

"I'm Molly." I said realizing I had not given him my own name in response.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Molly." He shook my hand and I felt a tingle and he seemed to as well. We looked up and nearly looked each other in the eyes before I realized that would result in a soul gaze and certainly not the way I wanted to start off this relationship, well assuming that there was going to be a relationship. I turned away quickly in embarrassment and he seemed to do the same.

"Um, you were telling me why you were sneaking around I think." Curtis asked to change the subject.

"Yeah. You know that riot yesterday at the Holocaust Museum?" I asked, not sure if he had stuck around for it or not.

"Yes, thankfully I was not too close when it all broke out." He said. "But now I seem to recall this beautiful girl who looked a lot like you saving some woman and her kids."

I blushed because he had remembered me. I would have died to know what he had thought when he saw me after our shared look. "Well two of the guys I saw there yesterday are here in this museum today. One is an old man who does not walk so well." I gave him a quick description of Heinrich and what I remembered him wearing.

"The other is one of those Nazis that were protesting on the steps of the museum. The bad thing is I think he saw me and was trying to follow me and see what I was up to." I explained.

"Well I work this floor and cannot say I saw either of these two." Curtis said from my general description. Okay Molly now you look like a paranoid loon to a super hot guy. Maybe I should stick to the old men only. They at least were willing to suspend belief for a pretty girl.

"On the other hand if they are planning something similar in this museum then I have a responsibility to try and stop it don't I?" He asked rhetorically. "So why don't you and I split up. I will go across the main hall through the Idea Factory section and the Farm Technology Section while you head through the food court. It will be busy right now so you can probably blend in better than your bald headed friends." He said.

Holy cow he was offering to help me? This was cool. Not only would this make the search easier but if they were up to no good then Curtis would be able to call on the museum's security guards to come help out as well. "That sounds like a good plan, but where should we meet up?"

"Well since you are my first damsel in distress, I guess the only right place to meet up is over at the fairy castle on the other side of this great hall." He said with a little too much self confidence and a whole lot more sappy charm than any one sentence should rightfully contain.

"Tell me." I asked. "Do these sorts of come on lines actually work for you?" I said teasingly.

"Not so far." He laughed. "But it is only my second day."

"Okay just checking." I smiled.

"Until we meet again fair maiden." He said bending over and kissing the back of my hand and sending tingles up my arm before he turned and hurried off. Okay, it was cheesy enough that the state of Wisconsin would probably claim it but I have to admit I smiled.

As Curtis had said the food court was packed, but thankfully bald headed men were not in over abundance. The dozen or so who were there were not either of the two I was seeking so after a five minute search I considered this area clear and headed for the fairy castle as directed.

Harry told me there were lots of places in Chicago where the barriers between the Nevernever where actual fairies lived and our real world were thin. I had a bad feeling any simulated fairy castle was just bound to be one of these places. This of course might be the perfect location for where the skinhead might be headed to perhaps barter for more power. Anyone with that level of hate in them likely would have no problem surrendering their soul to something even more evil if it provided them the power they wanted.

I was approaching it cautiously for that reason, along with not wanting to be seen by those I was looking for, and of course not knowing if Curtis had even arrived yet. I was approaching slowly when a pair of impressive things occurred at the same time.

First, the necklace charm I had made from the back of the watch suddenly came to life and literally yanked me to my left making me stumble as the pull was so strong. The necklace itself hung four inches or so down my neck so the pull actually made it break through the top two buttons on my white blouse, exposing a little more of me in the process than I had been offering the public a moment ago. Not that I had not shown off more, but having an inanimate object open your shirt to mid-stomach by sending the buttons flying was a new experience for me.

The second thing that occurred was another sharp explosion like a gunshot rang out. I was near the four central escalators that came up to the Flash and Bang exhibit area on the upper floor so at first thought nothing of it, but the bullet ricochet right near my head was new. I turned toward the noise and saw Mr. Skinhead had visited the gift shop and picked up a museum ball cap which is why I had not noticed him. Now though, as he was pointing his Lugar dead at me I had trouble seeing anyone else.

He was twenty feel away, I had the crowded food court right behind me, and now people all around us started screaming when they saw his gun, but still through all that noise I had no trouble hearing his words directed at me. "Bitch I have no idea how you dodge that last shot, but there is no way I will miss you a second time." He growled and pulled the trigger.

Of course I immediately activated my shield bracelet, forming in my mind, and then with magic, a shield slanting up at a forty-five degree angle. The second shot hit this magical barrier dead on, perhaps a foot from my face and deflected up into the ceiling; as did his third and forth shots as well.

"You are going to have to do better than that baldy." I taunted for no better reason than Harry always seems to do this at these inappropriate times. Maybe he is rubbing off on me in not so good ways.

The Nazi growled at his current impotence, his eyes darting around to the left and right. I was not sure if he was looking for security guards, or perhaps he thought to try and bank a shot around my shield. Instead though, after a moment his eyes grew cold. He turned the gun away from me and toward the same eight year old who had come into the bathroom.

"Pretty cool trick bitch." He said. "Bet you can't keep your up and protect a kid at the same time."

His speech gave me just enough time to focus my will and call up another invisible shield in front of her though my own nearly fell apart in the effort of trying to keep two up at the same time. The gun fired at the girl and again the bullet ricocheted away to the ceiling making him immediately turn and fire two more my way. By now sweat was beading on my forehead but the shield held up for these two more strikes.

He turned back to the little girl once more still looking toward me and then saw her mother running to save her. "Bet you can't do three." He aimed and began to squeeze the trigger. He was right. I could not do three at the same time. I dropped the one on me and the little girl and used my last strength to call up a very small shield, really small in fact. But I jammed this shield right into the barrel of the gun as he pulled the trigger.

The gun exploded as the jammed bullet's force had nowhere to go. Had the skinhead been staring down the sight to aim correctly the blowback would probably have taken off his head. But because he had played quick draw and shot from the hip the explosion only tore off a chunk of his hand and sent shrapnel into his side knocking him down.

Then suddenly the same panic spell I had felt yesterday swept through the museum once more. The security guards who were approaching the scene by now with their own firearms drawn, stopped and looked confused. The swarm of fleeing tourists, similar to that of any panicked herd animal, bowled right by them and in fact carried the pair along in their wake, though they did not seem too adverse to this. The skinhead took the opportunity to flee as well, though this might have been in response to the spell as well.

I have said before that magic other than my own, sort of knocks the wind out of me, and when I have already pushed myself to the limits this spell left me seeing the dark edges on my vision clouding over on me. I tried to fight it but I just collapsed into momentary unconsciousness.

I awoke a few minutes later, my head no longer feeling the cool marble but instead the softness that only comes from lying with your head in someone's lap. I opened my eyes to see Curtis looking down at me and drawing the hair out of my eyes. He did this two more times before noticing my eyes were open and then realizing what he was doing he stopped. I have to admit this was the best way I had woken up in, well in forever and almost begged him not to stop, but that was a little too forward even for me.

"Back with us Molly?" He asked with concern in his voice. I felt the distress he was feeling and started by offering a smile before trying to speak at all.

"Yeah, but I bet you think I'm pretty stupid." I said feeling embarrassed at having to be held like this.

"No, I think you are incredibly brave." He said. "I saw what you did for that girl and her mother, though I still don't know how exactly you did it." He said confused.

"It's really sort of complicated." I managed to say. "And would take too much time to explain right now."

"Okay, I understand." He said and I thanked him with my eyes for letting me off the hook. "That just means you have to let me take you to dinner tomorrow night and explain it to me there."

Okay, maybe my brain was not working quite right yet. It sounded like he said that but I knew I had to confirm it. "Did you just ask me out on a date?" I said shaking my head to clear it.

"Ummm, yes." He said with a smile. "I believe that is what we are still calling it these days."

I sat there literally speechless, though I blame the exhaustion for at least a part of that. "So is that a yes?" He asked.

"Um…sure." I said.

"Okay why don't you give me your address and I will pick you up at seven tomorrow?"

Okay, so here I was, just waking up from a spell battle and the hottest guy I had seen was asking for my address to take me to dinner. Oh yes, any doubt I may have had about being a private investigator were now completely out the window. This was the coolest job ever! I gave him Harry's address figuring this is where I would be.

I started to sit up, noting the way I had been laying gave Curtis a perfect cleavage shot due to my missing buttons. Perhaps that had sealed the deal for him on asking me out, I don't know, but you can bet I still was going to have dinner with him tomorrow night anyway.

I did notice that the watch back charm on my necklace had gone inert once more. Whatever had caused it to react was no longer taking place I guess. This was both good and bad news. On the good side it meant the charm actually worked. On the bad side though it meant something was still blocking this seeking magic. It had disappeared for a little bit, and I sort of suspected the fairy castle might have played a role in this, but I was too tired now to do anything more than accept this was a good starting point to return to when I had my strength built up again to continue the search.

Curtis helped me to my feet and put his arm around my shoulder to help me over to an actual chair. Most of the crowd had departed but some visitors were still in the building including the little girl and her mom who were hugging each other tightly, the mom at least realizing what she had almost lost today. What she would have lost, I realized, if I was not as good of a wizard as Harry's training had made me. Yep I felt pretty damn good about myself at the moment, still exhausted, but definitely satisfied.

The museum's intercom began to emit a klaxon alarm. "We have a code 100 in the southwest section of the lower level. We have a code 100 in the southwest section of the lower level." The alarm sounded twice more repeating that computer generated statement each time.

"What is a code 100?" I asked Curtis.

"It means a museum patron has been injured severely and medical units are responding." He answered immediately. "I had to memorize these during my job training." He explained.

I stood up, wobbly but stood up none the less and started to make my way toward the location described by the computer voice.

"What are you doing?" Curtis said concerned.

"The guy shooting at me was hurt, probably bad." I explained. "If this is him I need to know."

Curtis put his arm around me again, I have to admit it felt good there, and started leading me forward. "They won't let you into the area because of insurance reasons." He explained.

Normally this would not be a problem as I'd toss up a veil and go check it out anyway but I was way too drained to attempt this. Besides, Curtis seemed to understand my need and be taking matters into his own hands.

"I know where they will park the ambulance." He said. "You can check out who they bring out from there without making a scene. And if it is your attacker we will know what hospital they are taking him to."

That plan made perfect sense to me so I let him direct me outside. Of course by this point both police and an ambulance were arriving on the scene which meant television crews would not be far behind if they were monitoring police scanners. The last thing I wanted was to end up on television again so this plan was a good way to get me out of here also.

Curtis took me out the front and then brought me around the back entrance where the ambulance was by this time parked and waiting with its lights on, motor running, and the back door open. He leaned me up against a nearby car and within a minute I was resigned to the fact that I was forced to sit on the hood, hoping the owner did not come out and get upset by this.

Curtis did not say anything but instead just sat next to me offering comfort as we waited at least ten minutes. Finally the two-man, actually one man and one woman, team of paramedics wheeled the stretched out of the building and toward the ambulance in obvious haste. A blanket covered the body up to the chest and an oxygen mask concealed a greater part of the face but there was no denying that I recognized the person on the stretcher.

It was Heinrich Hummel.

The pair loaded the old man's body onto the vehicle, the woman staying in the back and the guy closing the door and heading around to the driver's door. "What is wrong with him?" I asked suddenly getting up and approaching the ambulance. "Was he shot?"

He looked at me. "No he has stage four pancreatic cancer." He said noting my concern. "He was walking around when he should have been confined to a bed. It's lucky he is not dead." The paramedic jumped in and raced the vehicle away even before his door was closed. This whole situation was getting stranger and stranger by the minute.


	11. Chapter 11

**Axis and Allies**

**_Tuesday Evening _**

**_Chapter 11_**

I left the museum with a reconfirmed promise by Curtis of our date for tomorrow night and headed to where I had left the Blue Beetle once more. Though physically exhausted in my body, my emotions were fully fired up and I was pissed off. That jerk had tried to kill me and an innocent mother and her child too. Granted it was not the first attempt on my life; perky high school girl wizards tend to have that unique experience early it seems. But still that did not mean I was simply willing to forgive and forget. But being this pissed off I did not want my emotions subtly affecting others, and especially not Curtis who would cancel out date and make me even more upset.

Unlike Harry, I like to think that when I do take the time to plan that I take into consideration things I can rely upon beyond just my own abilities and try to tap into appropriate, already existing resources. The right tool for the right job my dad always said. So as I drove back over to Harry's office to collect the mail I decided to make a phone call. If anyone would know what to do about attempted murder it would be Murphy.

"Murphy." She said all direct and to the point when I rang her cell phone. Of course that was the way she is, so it's not like I could tell if I were interrupting anything or she was free to talk.

"Hey Karrin it's me Molly, do you have a minute?" I asked her trying to keep all emotion out of my voice. I doubted that phone lines could carry my kind of magic but as pissed as I was I did not want to take a chance on it. Murphy was a great level headed cop. She would really hurt someone with her Aikido if my emotions influenced her right now.

"I'm on the way over to do a raid on those three remaining bald headed friends of yours." She said. "Someone who matched their description started shooting up another museum here in town a little while ago it seems, so that was enough for a reliable judge to issue a search warrant for their places of residence to see if one of them owns the weapon to match these slugs. It is thin, but better than nothing."

Yep this was going to be awkward. "Ummm about that." I said in a tone that I had no doubt set all her senses on edge. "You see I was the one being shot at in the museum."

"What?" She nearly screamed. "What the hell happened? And tell me quickly because I am two minutes away from the destination and need to hit these guys before they barricade up and we have a shootout on our hands." She ordered.

In a mere ninety seconds I explained my afternoon, starting with going to the museum to see if anyone knew anything about Jonathan all the way up to seeing Heinrich wheeled driven away in an ambulance. The only thing I skipped over was my date seeing as it was not relevant and of course since dating was a sensitive subject with Karrin.

"You realize that you left the scene of a crime?" Karrin asked.

"Well now that you put it that way…" Hey it was one of the first time I had been purposely shot at so it was not like I am so used to this that I knew what to do and what forms to fill out.

After a two second delay and a sigh she continued. "Well at least you had the common sense to call me. Are you at Harry's place?" She asked as I heard her parking her car.

"I'm at his office actually." I replied.

"Stay there and I will call you back once these raids go down and we can figure out what to do next." She ordered and I could tell from the tone she would brook no disobedience. Now Harry would of course ignore her orders if it suited him to do so, but in this key way that was one of Harry's bad habits that I had no intention of picking up. I agreed to Murphy's demand and decided that I could use this additional time productively anyway to track down another potential lead on this case.

I pulled out Harry's yellow pages again and began to call hospitals. On the third try I hit the jackpot.

"Mercy Hospital, how may I direct your call?" The pleasant voice on the other end asked.

"Yes ma'am I am looking for a patient who may have been brought in there by an ambulance in the last couple of hours." I explained getting ready to lie my ass off about being Heinrich's estranged granddaughter and last surviving relative. I had no idea if this was true. For all know he had thirty kids and one hundred grandkids, but I was counting on the staff not knowing that as my way to gather more information if it came to it.

"I will transfer you to admitting please hold." She sounded every bit as cheerful as she could be.

"Admissions." This next voice was anything but cheery. In fact that one three syllable word transmitted more lack of emotion than anything I had heard in a long time. Hell the guy who tried to kill me at least sounded pissed when he called me a bitch. I guess working around dying people all the time could wear on you.

"Yes ma'am." At least I think it was a ma'am. "I am looking for a patient named Heinrich Hummel who may have been…"

"Your relation?" She asked without letting me explain everything of where he had been picked up or his injuries.

"Granddaughter." I said. "You see my family…"

"Mr. Hummel is in the intensive care ward at the moment." She cut me off again rather curtly. "Thankfully his medical bracelet let us immediately understand and treat his condition. His vital signs are improving but he won't be moved to a regular room until tomorrow morning. Visiting hours begin at eight. Will there be anything else?"

I thought about asking if a bald headed man had come in with a hand injury but decided not to press my luck at the current time. "No that will be it thank…" She hung up before I could even finish my appreciation for her efforts. Like I said, working around death I guess jades some people.

Kay so I had a little bit of time on my hands as I waited for Murphy to call me back so I decided to get started on my homework for tomorrow. In the process of pulling those books out though I noticed Karrin's case file and having forgotten about it until this moment I realized now would be a good time to take a look at it and see if there was anything else important inside. Not that magic would be stated of course, but odd occurrences might have been recorded to allow me to figure out what we were dealing with.

I skipped over the FBI report on Ishmael Rothstein for the moment and decided instead to read the report on the death of his grandson. For those of you who have never read a police report let me say it is nowhere near as good a read as the average police novel. Hell it would not even get good reviews by readers at , providing of course you could get them to give a review. What it did though was provide all the facts of the case to allow those reading it to understand what was known without the bias, or as little bias by the investigating officer as possible.

Jonathan Rothstein, age 29 and a graduate of Brown University where he had double majored Philosophy and Religious studies and Judaic Studies with a 4.0 grade point average. That certainly fit with Murphy's conspiracy theory of religion playing a key part in this case. But of course I had nothing further to go on since this subject was not particularly relevant to his death according to the police at least so nothing further had been recorded.

Jonathan took the job at the museum the day after his grandfather had retired so Murphy's suspicions were starting to add up. He had been engaged to be married at the time of his death, wedding date scheduled for just over two months from now in fact, and all in all he seemed to have a successful, if rather boring life.

Bank records showed no odd withdraws, there were no gambling debts known, his credit rating was top notch, and he had no history of depression or any medical ailments. The investigating officer offered no motive for Jonathan to take his own life.

On the day in question Jonathan had taken the Loop, Chicago's elevated train, as he usually did to work. He had worked his full shift at the museum without any incident or argument. He had eaten lunch with coworkers who had not described his emotional state any different from any other day. He had punched his timecard when the museum closed at five-thirty and walked like he did every day back to his train stop for forty eight minute ride home, counting the single transfer to another train.

But two blocks from where he normally caught his train, for no apparent reason and before a host of witnesses, he stepped off the curb and in front of city dump truck that had the light to proceed. The driver of the truck was not on the phone, and the measurement of skid marks at the accident showed he had not been speeding, which is nearly impossible in that part of town at rush hour anyway. The driver's story of someone walking out in front of him at the last moment matched those of all of the other witnesses, some of whom had even made an ineffective grab for Jonathan to pull him back to safety. So in the end suicide had seemed the only answer that fit all these facts.

Of course the officer who had investigated was not likely to believe in magic so what else was he to believe? While odd, a copy of the case file had not been sent to Special Investigations after this had occurred as other even odder cases regularly did. It's not like anyone had seen a troll push him in front of the truck or Jonathan transform into a werewolf or anything. Had it not been the stolen dirt from his gravesite then the odds are Murphy and crew would never have gotten wind of this case at all.

I looked at Jonathan's college graduation picture once more and hoped that Murphy and I could get to the bottom of what was really going on. He looked like a nice guy. Nothing in the file suggested anything else in his personality. He deserved to have his spirit rest in peace.

The door to the office opened without me even realizing anyone was there and Mr. Leland entered. Once more I noted how his every movement seemed precise and efficient without any wasted energy or action. He strode directly to the desk and stood before it looking down at me.

"You have word on my property?" He asked with just a trace of expectancy in his voice.

"Not yet Mr. Leland, though I have completed the charm." I said pulling out and showing him that it laid still instead of pointing toward the watch he was seeking.

"That is most strange. I had the oddest feeling it had been discovered." He said looking at me in such a way to sense if I was actually lying to him about finding it.

I understood that of course. The watch was nearly priceless in the mere quality of its construction. To its creator it would undoubtedly seem even more so. Perhaps he expected that I would hold out on him now to seek and even greater fee later when he was more desperate. Or maybe he thought it was my desire to keep the artifact for myself.

However, I avoided a soul gaze with him, and he did with me as well, but showed him not only my honesty that I had not found the item but also that it was something I was actively attempting to do. Something about him though made me want to conclude my current business with him immediately so I offered up almost everything so he would understand and depart satisfied I was actively on the case.

"As you can see the charm is currently dead." I said. "This means that the watch is most likely protected by something that is blocking the magic somewhat, for example a lead lined safe which might make sense due to its worth. I did get one momentary hit on the watch today for just a moment. Perhaps the person who owns it opened the safe. I do not know."

He looked disappointed by my revelation and perhaps reconsidering our deal. "What I do know is that I understand not only right where I was standing at the time but also the direction I was pulled in." I said. "I can draw this line on a map and then do one of two things."

"If the likely safe is opened again and I can get another reading then I will know right where the watch is being kept by cross referencing these two lines on the map."

"And if the door is not conveniently opened?" He asked.

"Then I can trace along this path from where I was standing and hopefully the close proximity of the charm to the watch will overcome the current barriers and I will find it that way." I explained much more confidently than I actually felt at present.

"You come highly recommended Wizard Dresden." Mr. Leland said after a near minute of considering my plan. "I believe your offered plan does indeed have merit, though as I explained originally my time on this issue is quickly running out. I hope you prove your supporters' faith in you is justified." His tone was neutral, neither hopeful nor skeptical.

I really did not know what to say in response to this. Sometime there just is nothing. So instead of looking the fool I merely kept sitting where I was until Mr. Leland turned back and headed out the door.

"Good day Ms. Dresden." He said closing the door behind him and leaving me to breathe a sigh of relief. And of course that lasted only until I exhaled in surprise when the phone on the desk rang.

"Harry Dresden's office." I answered since there was no such thing even dreamed of like caller ID when this model of telephone had been created. Thankfully it turned out to be Murphy as promised, though not with news that I was eager to hear.

"Molly we struck out on all three apartments." Murphy said by way on an introduction. "From the look of things they either knew we were coming or the loss of their two friends over the past two nights made them go to ground. We have APBs out for all three of them and we checked with all the local hospitals but there has been no sign of the guy you hurt."

That was not good. Since I did not know when he had first started tailing me I also had no idea of if he knew I was staying at Harry's house or came here regularly to his office. Today, having experienced him shooting at me once already, I did not want to find him waiting in ambush for me somewhere else on my normal daily path. That meant I would have to find him before he found me. But to do that I would need a personal item of him, a lock of hair, or blood. Well I was pretty sure knew where some of that was at least.

"Molly I'd like to take you into protective custody until we can track this guy down." Murphy was saying as I was making my own plans. "With his injuries he can't stay out of sight forever and when he pops up we nab him and you go back to your normal life."

"I got a better idea Murphy." I said. "How about I pull a tracking spell on him and lead you to him. That way I don't have to hide and maybe you get all the bad guys at once."

I knew Murphy was at heart a good cop who hated to see the bad guys get away. The offer I made her was obviously a tempting one, especially when she considered it might provide a lead under interrogation to solve the rest of this case and get it off her plate. It was a good bet that this alone would bring her around in the end.

"You can do that?" She asked though I knew she had observed Harry do so in the past, or at least been the beneficiary of the fruits of his labors in that case.

"Of course." I said. "Tracking spells are easy." That was generally true under two conditions. The first is that I had something of the person I was tracking, but like I said I knew where I could get some of his blood. The second is that you are not already totally wasted physically and psychically and cannot call up the magic.

I have to admit I was pretty damn close on this second point, but magic is sort of like a trickle fed pool. Even though I had not gone to sleep, some of my ability to call upon magic had been building up ever since I left the museum and came over here. There was no way I was ready for launching into a protracted spell battle and I also would not be recharging my three spent shield charms tonight, leaving me only four more, one of which was me weaker one, to call upon, but that should still be enough to see me through what I needed to do. I figured it would take only two relatively simple spells, and I had the strength for those I was pretty sure.

"Alright when and where do I meet you?" She asked accepting the plan but obviously on her terms.

I looked at the clock. It was just before six in the evening. Assuming everything would work out I did not want to go collect blood until after sundown at least. Add to that travel time and the time to cast the spell. "Meet me at Harry's apartment at nine or so?" I asked. "It will take me a while to clean up here and get over to his place and get the spell ready." I failed to mention the necessary detour also but that would not be something she was likely to approve so I relied upon the old faithful philosophy for 'tis better to ask forgiveness than permission' in this case.

"Okay I will see you at nine." Karrin said. "But be careful kid. I don't want to tell Harry some waste of flesh skinhead hurt you."

"Trust me Murph." I tried to laugh. "I don't want you having to tell Harry that even more than you."

We hung up the phone, I locked up the office, and I started a slow drive back out to the museum. The sun was still just setting when I got there so I parked a block away and popped into a 7-11 got grab a candy bar and a drink for a quick sugar high before starting my break in. The little container of Beast energy drink taunted me from the counter by the register. I knew I had the potions in my pack for added energy but still wanted to save those for an actual emergency. A good night's sleep would revive me. But of course I did not have that available at the present time.

What the hell, I bought a bottle of Beast along with my haphazard and certainly not Surgeon General of the United States approved meal and waited until dark by the car.

By the time the energy drink was kicking in and the sun had gone down completely, I had scoped out how I planned to accomplish all of this by doing a quick walk around. At the back of the museum was a delivery entry door that also had a small access door as well. Both were secured by a card swipe and electric alarm system. As far as security goes, this was damn near state of the art. So of course it was perfect for a wizard wanting entry.

I walked up to it looking for cameras on the outside, thankfully there were none, leaned in close to the card swipe and blew it a kiss. Like some guys, it never had a chance. Within seconds it started sputtering, smoking, and then exploded, rendering it completely useless. According to girl talk in school that too was like some guys they knew.

Of course the way the system was designed, the electronic access system failing was supposed to immediately lock down the electric locking door. Of course a wizard's curse has just the opposite effect. The charge to ensure the deadbolt remained closed also felt a power surge so retracted the bolt instead leaving the door unsecure. A mere pull upon the handle, my hand covered by my t-shirt to avoid fingerprints, and a certain perky high school wizard apprentice had broken into her very first government building. I am certain that Harry would be so proud of me when I told him; yeah right.

On the bright side I was glad that I had not been forced to cast a spell to get in as I had planned for. This allowed me to conserve what little strength I did have even after the power drink erased my overwhelming feeling of fatigue. I looked around and saw no one watching me and did not hear the distant sounds of sirens racing to come check out the museum's alarm so I entered and pulled the door almost completely closed behind me.

Unlike earlier today this time I had entered at the lowest level of the museum. That meant to get back to where the shooting had taken place I merely needed to proceed further into the complex. It was, however at this time that I suddenly wondered if the museum had nighttime security guards. That would be something a little hard to deal with for me.

In a way though, even if there were guards, I had a little advantage in this respect. It was so dark in the museum that I was forced to call upon just a small spell to make the cross that my mother had given me glow. In luminosity it was perhaps equal to a candle; enough to keep me from stumbling into anything but no so bright as to attract attention from anyone all the way on the other side of the museum.

The fact that there were no obvious lights on anywhere that I could see as I took as evidence that there were no guards at least on this level. There may be some on the main floor above, but providing I stayed quiet and did not let my light get out of control I should not have to worry about anything other than random patrols I guessed.

The four major escalators in the central area all exited in the middle of the floor and might transmit the glow from my light upstairs if I wandered too close so instead I followed Curtis's path from earlier and went far around the side through the farm technology section.

Having grown up in Illinois it's not like I had never seen a farm tractor before, but that did not mean I found them even remotely interesting. Certainly some people did, and the museum's displays of old plows up to modern huge commercial tractors were certain a great timeline as to how farming had progress over the years. But still, I was satisfied just to see the food in the grocery store. How it got there would never be a subject that I wanted to spend any time on that could be better spent on other pursuits; such as sleeping. Even with the power drink I still found myself yawning at the thought of sleep.

Finding where the shooting had taken place was not all that hard considering the multiple lines of police tape that had been strung up to keep people from stepping into this area. I was on a mission of recovery though so of course I did not let so simple a barrier as that prevent me from getting what I came here after.

I had just maneuvered my way through the strings and was on the inside of the fifteen by fifteen foot square area when I noted the marble flooring in this area was not going to be very supportive to my search. It was a dark speckled marble and the first three spots that I thought might be blood drops turned out to be just darker streaks within the stone.

I momentarily considered increasing the brightness of my light, but since I was relatively close to one of the escalators the increased illumination would draw unwanted attention if there were anyone above. Well Molly, I guess this means you have to get down on your hands and knees and search very close to the source.

If in my mind I split this cordoned off area into three foot by three foot squares then I had only twenty-five to check by rubbing my hands across them looking for dried blood. Each would likely take at least one or two minutes to search by this combination of sight and touch. That meant worst case, if the fates were against me and I did not find the blood until the last square, I would be done in less than an hour. Well, no purpose in waiting.

I was on the eighth section, without luck so far I might add, when I had a creepy feeling run along my spine. I have said before that wizards are gifted with senses slightly different from others and such feelings are often the results of these senses trying to tell you something important. The fact though that it made me shiver I had to admit scared me also.

Likely I knew something would be there, I turned toward the escalator, which thankfully was not moving, and through the darkness I could just make out someone descending these stairs. While that alone was enough of a reason to get the heck out of there, the fact that the individual was coming down the steps is what was making me feel anxious gave me impetus to do it quickly and without being observed.

I dove once more back into the Farm Tech area and hid behind the really big tractor and waited to see what would happen. I had commanded my illuminated cross to dim, but not to go out completely, and hid it beneath my shirt once more. I waited to see the bobbing light of a flashlight or some other form of light but there was nothing. Nor were there any telltale sounds of someone walking on the hard floor.

I sat silently crouched down in my hiding place for at least five minutes listening for anything out of the ordinary. The time ticked by painfully slow, that was either the results of the adrenaline, the energy drink, or likely a combination of the two that made the time so torturous. At the end of that short period of time though I could not just sit still and hide any longer. My wizard senses were telling me whatever had creeped me out had not left the area, but I had no clue where it was right now.

I carefully and slowly moved looking for anything to warn me of danger, and I was surprised in the near total darkness how much my eyes were now able to see. I could make out the displays and walk between them without bumping into one with no problem. And as I got past them and once more was on the edge of the main central area I could even make out that the police tape line had been torn down.

I paused to consider this and then heard an odd sound from straight ahead of me. It was like someone sniffing the air, but being totally congested with a cold at the same time. My eyes locked immediately on that place where the noise had originated from but I could only make out a darker spot against the slightly less dark background. That is until I saw this darkness twitch as it made this same sound a second time.

You know that scene in the horror movies where the slashing murderer with the axe has just decapitated five of the poor dumb high school students who are out having sex by the lake and instead of fleeing the survivors who discovered the bodies decide to split up and look for the murder? You know how you always say 'don't do that you idiot, just get the heck out of there?' And you know how they never do that but instead do something incredibly stupid that they thought was a good idea at the time? Yeah, I just found out that I am that stupid student!

I lifted my glowing cross up out of my shirt, but clenched tightly in my fist to hide its shine until I was ready. When they noise emitted from the darkness a third time I opened my hand with the cross facing toward it and ordered the illumination to increase.

A man sat kneeling on the floor with his face pressed almost directly onto the marble almost as if in prayer. The snorting I had heard had indeed been this person inhaling, and noted with the increased light I could see a patch of dried blood, the very blood I had come here for, right below his face. But when the glow coming from my hand brightened up the room more completely he turned to look directly at me.

I guess in my mind I had been prepared for most possibilities. Harry's stories had told me of many possible fairy creatures or even vampires that might be attracted to a recent scene of violence and blood like this. Part of me was even ready for it to be the wounded skinhead who would pull out a new gun and start shooting at me once more.

What I had not even remotely considered is that I would be looking into the face of Jonathan Rothstein, the very same Jonathan Rothstein whose picture I had looked at less than three hours ago, and who according to Karrin, the police report, his own family, and even Ms. Brown who had gotten me into this mess in the first place, was supposed to be dead and buried in a graveyard. I could not make out all his features in this light, but I did enough to know I was correct in my identification.

Then when his head turned to stare toward me, I avoided his eyes of course and focused instead on his mouth, he mad an animalistic snarl that no completely living face was capable of. The sound he made was certainly not words, nor any normal form of communication, but still I had no problem understanding its inhuman growl meant he wanted to kill me, right here, and right now.

Okay it is at this time that in the horror movies the girl gets killed. I on the other hand chose to run. I took off quickly heading back toward farm tools to make my way back outside, but Jonathan, or at least the thing that looked like him, kept pace with me heading down the more direct straight aisle toward my door. It was going to beat me to the exit, so I had to change plans and do so quickly.

Zombie! My mind seemed to identify just what I figured I was facing based upon Harry's stories and of course the fact that Jonathan was dead. That meant that I had been right. There had to be a necromancer working here in Chicago again. And while I may do a great imitation of a dumb blonde girl in a slasher movie, the fact that this perky high school apprentice wizard knew she was out of her league and would require help did not make me feel any less sure about myself.

I would have to call Carlos again I reasoned. With Harry gone, Carlos was the only one I knew both with the power to take on a necromancer, and someone who would not assume I was in cahoots with him or her just because I was living under the Doom of Damocles. Of course, getting the chance to call Carlos meant that I had to get out of here first. And with my door on this floor blocked, that meant it was time to improvise.

Instead of turning left toward the door I turned right and raced down the hall. With my light still glowing I was a perfect target for the zombie who I could sense was still tracking on me. Thankfully at the end of the hallway where the corridor formed a T-intersection there was also another escalator. I ran around that since the stairs were on the far side and decided on my escape plan in an instant.

Reaching into my pocket I pulled out one of the quarters I had been given in change at the 7-11 and cast an illumination spell on it as well. As its glow increased I dimmed the cross and then tossed the quarter up the currently non-moving stairway and onto the main floor above. Then I placed myself in God's hands for a fifty-fifty choice. As I heard the zombie approach the stairs I went around the opposite way from which I came and ducked down quickly.

I dared not raise my head to look for fear of it seeing me, but the illumination from the quarter at the top of the stairs obvious drew its attention for I could hear it making squishy sounds as it climbed the stairs. Thinking of how bodies decompose, the squishy sound sort of turned my stomach when I thought about it.

You might wonder why I had not fled up the stairs. The simple answer is that my open door lay on this level and not up above. Sure I might get it open in time, but that would take longer and might require a spell. I figured the zombie would like not be that patient.

I came back around to the underside of the stairs and waited a moment to listen to what the zombie would do once it understood it had been duped. There was nothing immediately available to use as a weapon if it came to a physical battle other than a placard that said that the World War Two German submarine U-505 exhibit was down the corridor to the left at the end of the hallway. The placard might be sharp like a knife, but knives are not all that effective against something already dead.

The zombie made some sort of howling sound, either in frustration or in signaling the chase was on once more, but I decided not to stick around and find out which. I raced back the way I had come and out the loading bay doors to the clear night sky that was far better illuminated by the moon and stars than the inside of the museum had been. I did not stop to admire these but instead raced around the building and made a direct beeline for where I had parked the Blue Beetle. Thankfully it was there, it started, and I was off weaving through Chicago's evening traffic back to Harry's apartment without any further sign of the zombie. That last was enough to allow my breathing to return once more to normal.

Ninety minutes or so later I was once again pulling up at Harry's place, delayed by an accident between two commuters who did not know what color the stoplight had been obviously. Thankfully, the whole time I had been trapped in the jam waiting until they moved the cars there had been no sign of the zombie running up behind me, or at least none I could see in the rearview mirror which kept my almost complete attention.

Murphy was not here yet, but I knew she was likely due any minute. I hurried inside and was greeted by two hundred pound dog happy to see me and a thirty pound cat wearing a disapproving stare. And then the phone started to ring.

"Hello?" I said not daring to want to say more.

"Molly, it's me Murphy." I could tell she was calling from her cell phone and that she was not driving.

"Hey Murph let me save you the trip." I admitted. "I struck out on the blood to cast the seeking spell."

"Don't worry about it kid that is why I am calling you." She said. "We just found the guy who tried gunning you down in a back alley surgeon's makeshift recovery room. He is dead and covered in dirt just like his friends. However, this time we have the killer's image on bank ATM photo." She said smugly having a real break in the case for once.

"Let me guess." I interrupted. "It is Jonathan Rothstein."

"How the hell did you know that?"

"You know Murph…it's been one of those nights that just can't get any worse." I said.


	12. Chapter 12

**Axis and Allies**

_**Wednesday Early **_

_**Chapter 12**_

The next fifteen minutes were some of the most uncomfortable of my life as Murphy grilled me over what I had done and how I had learned that Jonathan Rothstein was behind the murders. I will state simply that Murphy did not approve of my going into the museum after hours, in fact she disapproved of it quite vocally using words like 'breaking and entering,' 'State prison,' and 'five to eight years.'

I tried to temper this by pointing out all that I had learned, which of course was pretty much made far less valuable by the ATM photo of Jonathan Rothstein entering the building where the murder took place slightly before the victim's estimated time of death. While that alone would not normally be enough to convict someone of murder, considering he was walking around when supposed to be buried in the ground certainly added to the circumstantial evidence against him. My information that he was not living, but rather likely a zombie did garner me a little bit of thanks it was not enough to prevent the lecture I was required to receive.

In the end I acknowledged that and accepted another dressing down for my actions being told in the process that I was taking on some of those qualities of Harry's, such as disregard for the law and its officers, that made Murphy nuts. She pointed out how if I had told her my plan she could have got me into the museum legally since it was related to her case, which would have allowed us to turn on the lights.

"Yeah I guess I had not considered that." Maybe I was taking on Harry's 'get it done' attitude a little too much. He had a whole lot of battle magic to back it up. I most certainly did not. There certainly was a valid point in what Murphy was saying to me.

"Molly you and I need to talk soon." Karrin said no longer mad but obviously deadly serious. "I am starting to get the feeling you are holding out on me, or perhaps have a few details you have not thought to share that I might find useful."

"Murph I told you…" I tried to deny this though of course there were some things I had not mentioned like tracking down Heinrich in the hospital so it was true.

"Kid, I am willing to let it all pass if you promise to come clean with me. I will even keep you involved with the case." She said. "What time do you get home from school tomorrow?"

"School lets out at three." I said. "I will probably take the Harry's car so I can meet you somewhere."

"My shift begins at four." She said. "I'd prefer not to do while on duty and I had promised you to show you a few self defense moves, so is it possible for you to get out of school a little early? Why don't you come down to the station gym and we can talk and work out at the same time?"

Inspiration hit me. "That is an absolutely fabulous idea Karrin!" I said, though not because I was ready to start learning Aikido. "But in order to meet you that early I will need your help." I bargained.

"For what?"

"Well my classes are over just after noon." I said. "If you would not mind calling my school and telling them I am helping you on the case then they will not have an issue letting me leave early." I said explaining a perfectly reasonable and valid excuse. And I did not mention that if she did this then I will not have to come up with another excuse for leaving early since those were wearing thin. This was especially important since after being shot at I guess I had dropped the pamphlets from the museum that the vice principal had directed me to bring back as proof of my research.

"Alright." She sounded skeptical, probably remembering being a high school girl herself once. I had the feeling that Karrin Murphy had been a hell raiser in her high school; regardless of the fact her father had been a Chicago cop. But hey she could not seriously blame me for taking her up on her offer and this was a reasonable price to pay.

I passed her the information on what school I went to and the vice principal's name before again promising I would be there by three o'clock tomorrow for our talk and session of self-defense training. I hoped the former went well, because I was afraid of the pain I would feel from the latter if it did not. We at least hung up on a cordial note.

It's been a while since I mentioned that I was exhausted, and it had certainly not improved any over this interim period of time. Add to that a somewhat exciting day in an 'oh my god I could have been killed' kind of way and you get a good idea of my physical, mental, and emotional states. Getting shot at was bad enough; having a zombie chase me though the darkened museum was even worse. I guess I should ask Harry sometime if they really do eat brains like they always seem to hunger for in the movies. On that cheery note I decided to head to bed.

I was not sleeping on the couch tonight and in order to feel the most relaxed I could I was not about to catch a powernap in my clothes like I had for the past two nights. I was claiming Harry's bed, and I was sleeping comfortably without my school clothes on.

Thankfully Mouse slept elsewhere in the house and not on Harry's bed. The idea of having to battle a two hundred pound hairy, farting beast in order to be able to get a good night's sleep did not appeal to me. I figured with my luck I would be resigned to this fate in marriage so why partake of it now. Speaking of marriage though, that sent a wonderful image of Curtis running through my mind and I began to undress quickly so that maybe I could keep these thoughts going to form into a nice dream.

I was down to my undergarments when I caught Mister sitting in the doorway apparently watching me undress. "Get out of here Mister, I am going to bed and do not have time to scratch you now." I reached behind my back to unfasten my bra but Mister showed no intention of moving from his spot. In fact he licked his lips like cats are wont to do, but in what appeared an all too human like emotion based upon my current activity. Could cats be peeping toms? Harry really needs to get a normal pet.

"No peep show for you!" I said holding my bra in front of me but kicking the door closed. He realized too late what I was doing and jumped up to get into the room before the door closed but he was an instant too late based upon the sound of something slamming into the door just after the latch caught. His meow of denial and outrage did nothing but make me smile as I finished getting completely undressed and scooted under the covers. "Sleep take me, I am all yours!"

I'd love to tell you I dreamt happy thoughts and slept all through the night. I'd love even more to not tell you I had wonderful dreams of Curtis and would never share them with you. What really happened instead though was I had a horrible dream of being chased by the zombie Jonathan Rothstein who never gave up the chase. In the end he caught up to me when I fell just like pure Hollywood drama. He loomed there over me as I was unable to scuttle away. His claw like fingernails reaching for my flesh and for the heartbeat he saw beating in my jugular. Closer, closer, and closer until those nails were only an inch from the skin of…

I awoke to the feeling of a very cold, and very sharp metal blade pressed against my neck. In the dark I could make out only a little of the figure holding the weapon, except he towered over me while I slept and was wrapped in the grey cloak of a Warden. "Wizard Apprentice Molly Carpenter, you are directed under the Laws of Magic to surrender to me and face the charge of violating the Fourth Law of Magic." While I was woken from a dead sleep, and the Warden in question spoke in a deadly serious tone, I still recognized the voice as Carlos Ramirez, Harry's counterpart and supposed friend in North America.

"Carlos what…" I tried to scoot a little back from the blade tip cognizant that if I went too far the blanket still tucked under the bed would not offer cover for my unclothed body. But with my slight movement back he extended his hand even further keeping the pressure on my neck and silencing me all in one very smooth and deadly move.

"Apprentice Wizard Molly Carpenter swear a wizard's oath that you will neither try to flee nor to cast a spell for the next two hours and I shall allow you the chance to speak and defend your actions." He said in that same deadly serious and professional tone.

Carlos, a member of the Wardens, those who are the enforcers of the White Council, knew his duty well in dealing with wizards. If I made such an oath and violated it, not only would that be grounds for immediate execution under my Doom of Damocles punishment, but even surviving that I would likely lose my powers or have them terribly twisted by betraying my oath. No wizard, or for that matter any native of the Nevernever, swore such an oath if they intended not to honor it. I was potentially guilty either with or without the oath, but by making it I would at least be offered a chance to speak and explain my own side of the story once I understood the charges.

"I hereby swear to neither attempt escape from your lawful authority nor to cast spell for the next two hours." I said formally having been forced by Harry to learn this protocol early on in my training.

It worked just as Harry had said it would. Faster than I could see in the darkness the blade was gone from my neck and I heard it slide home in its sheath. I started to sit up but of course the covers did not follow like they should and was just barely covered up completely again when Carlos called upon his magic and all the candles in the room burst into flame.

He looked down and me holding the blanket to my chest. "Are you ready to explain?" He said with only the barest hint of a smile from quickly realizing my predicament.

"Can I get dressed first and we talk in the other room?" I asked and blushed at the same time.

"That was not part of the deal." He said seriously and I just sat there without moving. But then I saw his smile broaden a bit. "On the other hand I would not want Harry to think there was something going on between his apprentice and myself considering my reputation with the ladies." He bowed as he verbally patted himself on the back. "Therefore you have five minutes to get dressed and come out to talk with me on the couch about why you caused a riot here in Chicago two days ago." Without a word he left the room and closed the door for my privacy when getting dressed.

I flipped the covers off of me, slid my feet to the floor and began to stand up when my head swam and I immediately sat down feeling the head rush of moving too fast all throughout my body. Physically I felt a little better from this nap I had taken, but I was a long way from feeling as fully recovered as I would from a good night's sleep. I looked longingly at the pillow as I realized I might not get close to it again tonight.

By Carlos's appraising look as I came into the main room I can't say I felt any less embarrassed in my school outfit than I might have hiding under the blankets. He stayed within the realm of professional, but just barely. I knew he, unlike Harry, certainly saw me more as a woman than a girl.

"Your buttons are off." He said nodding to my blouse which was indeed sitting at an odd angle. Since I had not taken the time to put my bra on first there was no way I was going to deal with a missed aligned series of buttons at this time. Instead I took my required seat on the couch as he sat straddled over a kitchen chair across from me with his arms crossed in front of him and resting on the back of the chair.

"I did not cause that riot." I said for my initial defense so I could stake out my complete innocence from the get go.

"Molly, I am hoping Harry explained this to you." He said both seriously and a little awkwardly. "When you are living under the Doom, you are required to answer a Warden honestly on all subjects related to magic and your actions. Failure to do so is tantamount to denial of the oath you made to live within the limits of the White Council law and therefore subjects you, and in this case Harry, to immediate execution."

I admit I knew Carlos was explaining this not only for my benefit but also because he really liked Harry and would not want to carry out a dual execution unless it was absolutely required. But of course the catch-22 in this case was if he thought I was lying at present that means he expected me to admit the violating the Fourth Law of Magic which also conferred a death sentence for the both of us as well. I guess it was this damned if I do and damned if I don't type of attitude combined with the lack of sleep that set me off and raised my voice higher and angrier than it should have been.

"Trust me Carlos that is a fact I understand far too clearly." I said not letting the anger be contained. "Harry explained this all in vivid detail to me which made me beg him not to take my burden on himself. He is too pigheaded to listen." I said.

"Even if I were willing to violate your stupid laws, if you think that I could endanger Harry after he did such a thing as accepting the Doom for himself to save my life then you better reassess your opinion of both Harry and me if you want to consider either of us your friend." I said quite snappy. "And _Warden_ Ramirez…" I said emphasizing his title and no longer using his name. "I also know a Warded, or at least a good one like Harry, knows that they are to gather the facts without the presumption of guilt. This is to prevent Warden's from making the wrong assumptions about an individual."

I watched his eyes at my outburst go from wide in surprise, not enough to reach for his sword thankfully, to appropriately chastised when I made my comparison of how he handled his duties as to how Harry would. Being compared to someone you respect and not coming out overly favorable certainly sets most people back to reconsider their actions. I was also glad that my outburst was not seen as a challenge to his authority or a reason to further escalate the situation.

Silence hung between us for a moment as he read my posture but avoided my eyes; soul gazing was something we both wanted to avoid. Finally he spoke. "Molly you are right and I am sorry." He said. "I am not at all pleased to be here and to have to carry out this duty if it is called for. I guess I hardened myself too much to not letting my emotions sway my duty that I forgot to keep in mind that you may have a valid explanation for your actions."

I took a deep breath as well, knowing it would not take much to set me off on another rant again either, and that would not do me or Harry any good. "Apology accepted Carlos." I purposely used his name again. "I want you to know the truth because I need your help." I admitted. "I did not cause that riot, and I am not skilled enough to take on those who did."

"You should realize up front that I saw you on the television." Carlos said without adding an overt accusation. "So did a few key members of the White Council which is why they sent me here to investigate. Ancient Mai even said she sensed other sensitive magic cast upon another crowd earlier today as well. You know our justice is swift when the laws are violated."

"I know all of that which is why I called you a few nights ago to tell you there was a problem here in Chicago that was beyond my ability to deal with, but still my responsibility to report based upon my oath to the Council." The days were blurry and though I suspected it was after midnight, I had no idea what time it actually was.

"You called me?"

"Don't you check your messages?" I asked, tempted to say 'or do you only check your Love Nest ones?' I figured that would not be good for my present situation so I withheld my sarcasm.

"Not in the last two days." He said. "I was out on assignment. But assuming you did, why don't you start from the beginning now and tell me what is going on."

Okay that made sense. If he had not known I had called him and requested his help for a problem then all he had to go on was what he saw on television, which really did not look good for the only known sensitive wizard in the Greater Chicago area, at least as far as the White Council knew. I wonder how they would take that there were a few others they did not know about, though Jonathan Rothstein's zombie appeared to be lessening that number for the Council on a nightly basis.

I took a deep breath and launched into my story. "Well this all sort of began when this woman named Ms. Brown came into Harry's office while I was there collecting the mail and wanted to hire a wizard to find her son." I said being honest but not being too obvious on my own responsibility in making these events happen.

"Hire 'a wizard' or hire Harry Dresden?" Carlos asked. Damn it I hate when my personality and reputation precedes me.

"Well she came there seeking Harry of course." I said and ended it there. Carlos did not press any further though the look in his eyes showed he strongly suspected my increased involvement beyond that in leading up to these other events. But since saying I was Harry Dresden was not against the Laws of Magic, only those of the legal world such as identity theft and such, he really had no grounds for complaint though he did have other equally less appealing options at his disposal. In other words he could not kill me for it, but he could rat me out to Harry which would likely be almost as bad.

"And why did she not go to the police?" He asked mimicking my initial question as well.

"In her story she said that her son had been hanging around with some others who had used magic to cause a young man working at a museum to kill himself." I explained. "You and I both know that there are far more people who pretend to wield magic than actually can, but I figured since the White Council had me under the Doom I was obligated to check out the story and report it if it turned out to be true as this would be a violation of the First law of Magic." I said with a smile showing I did understand the laws I was living under.

"Okay, that is a fair interpretation of that, though I think you took it upon yourself instead of letting those of us with the job do what we are paid to do." He said.

"That is so only if the story turned out to be true." I answered. "If it was all made up then I was wasting your valuable time and you know how stretched thin the Wardens are. I do not call the police every time a floorboard creeks because it might be a burglar. I figured if I could talk to Murphy and see if the murder actually took place as Ms. Brown said it did then I had enough to go on to call in the cavalry."

"So you talked to Murphy about the death?" Carlos knew Karrin from when the two had helped Harry with a case. He also knew she worked in the section of the police department that dealt with these issues.

"I did." I said which seemed to make him relax a little more. "And she happened to know about the case, not because the death had seemed odd, the police had ruled it a suicide, but because after Jonathan Rothstein had been buried someone had stolen all the dirt from his grave, but left the casket and the body where it was."

That revelation made Carlos perk up. "The grave dirt was stolen but the body was untouched?"

"Yep." I said. "For obvious reasons I suspected necromancy, but that was not like anything I had ever heard of before. Harry has said there are many fringe elements who do crazy things like this in a cemetery such as stealing a skull, but who are not actual wizards or other gifted in magic."

"Yeah we have a lot of this out in California." Carlos admitted. "There is a group of street racers who are using actual human skulls as hood ornaments on their cars."

"So see once again I had no proof of an actual necromancer operating in Chicago, though I suspected such." I explained and he nodded. "And in truth it seemed unlikely because what are the chances of a necromancer AND a set of sensitive mages all appearing here in the city at the same time and directly connected with the same case?"

"Yeah it is a stretch I will grant you that." He seemed upset by the revelation but more relaxed as my story went along.

"Murphy asked me to check out if wizards had any use for grave dirt." I explained. "If not the case was going to simply be recorded as another random vandalism that could not be explained."

"Needless to say I do not have any experience with this kind of magic, and it's not like Harry held classes in it with me, so I promised to look through his books and see if I could come up with anything useful that might touch upon the subject or provide insight." I said.

At this point I stood up and grabbed my backpack from off the table and brought it back pulling out the Katz Manuscript still inside of it. I pulled it out and handed it to him. "The only thing I could find, and actually it was Mister who found it, was this book that seemed to show someone working with dirt or clay." I said. "Unfortunately it is written in Hebrew so I have no clue what it says and if it is even important."

"You said Harry's cat Mister found it for you?" He asked and I simply nodded. While he said nothing more something in his eyes clicked telling me I had passed along something important to him. "Please continue."

"You do not read Hebrew do you?" I asked hoping he could shed some light on this for me or tell me what he had just figured out.

"No, that is not one of my languages." He said flipping through the book only casually and handing it back to me. I guess I still had an appointment with Mr. Goldman today.

"Well Murphy called me two nights ago and told me some of the graveyard dirt had been found but it had been used to kill someone." I continued with my story. "I drove down to the scene to take a look and the victim had been killed with mud packed into his mouth and nose to make him suffocate and a small pile of it had been left at the scene. But nothing else had been done to the body other than some numbers cut into the forearm." This made me remember and I pulled my notes out of my pocket and read him the numbers. They did not immediately mean anything to Carlos either.

"We also found this note that read 'Schertel's magic book, Furher's copy, 505.'" I handed him over my note and once again this seemed to get his complete attention. "Does any of that make sense to you?" I asked. The fact that it said 505 suddenly made me remember the placard from the museum that had mentioned the U-505. I wondered if this was a coincidence or a connection I had just made.

He seemed to consider his answer for a moment before starting to talk. "Schertel was a White Court Wizard who worked for the Nazi's in World War II." Carlos explained. "Like you he was primarily a sensitive mage so Hitler kept him around for helping fire up Nazi rallies and that sort of thing with his magic. While the White Council frowns on wizards getting involved in politics it is not specifically forbidden and heaven knows that the Allies had wizards helping them out during the war as well."

"Then are you familiar with this book?" I asked hoping he had insight that would help Murphy's case.

"I have seen a copy of the book, and you could describe it sort of a Magic For Dummies type of text." Carlos said. It explains the basic concepts pretty well but it does not have spells or anything that touches on real power inside of it." He stopped and thought for a few moments more. "I seem to recall the Furher's copy, meaning the one personally given to Adolf Hitler by Schertel himself, and therefore likely the original copy, was recently put on display at Brown University here in the US."

"Could the original have actual magical things in it that were not part of other copies?" I asked.

"It is possible I guess." He seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking and returning to the reason he was here in the first place. "Put that aside, you still have not explained your role in the riot."

"Murphy had me take the Katz book to Jonathan Rothstein's grandfather who was a rabbi." I continued. "In exchange for explaining that it had nothing of value in it he had me drive him down to the Holocaust Museum where the riot took place. He saw the Nazi's protesting there and went nuts because he is a Holocaust survivor himself. I was merely trying to keep him from getting into trouble when the magic began to fly all around me." I explained leaving out the passive effects I had been attempting to calm the crowd.

"You mean there was more than one spell?" He asked.

"Yes." I said. "Those Nazis I think fired off the first one and it sent a feeling of anger into the crowd, I know because I felt it too and luckily understood it and was able to resist." I said.

"They fired off a group spell or did just one of them cast it?" He asked seeking clarification.

"It looked to me like it was a group effort, though that was nothing in strength compared to the next one that came from behind me and buried us all under a wave of fear." I explained.

"Was there another group behind you?" Carlos asked.

"No, just a few people and none who looked like they were working together." I said.

"That is odd."

"Why?"

"Well group magic is usually cast to combine power and make the spell stronger than any sole individual in the group is capable of." He explained. "But you said the second spell was more powerful than the first. That means the group casting the first spell are relatively weak while whoever cast the second one is pretty damn strong."

"Maybe it was a teacher and students?" I asked figuring this to be the obvious answer for their ability to coordinate.

"Yes, that is what I was thinking." He said. "And with all these references to Schertel I am wondering if it was one of his apprentices since Schertel was reportedly killed in the firebombing of Dresden. Some of his apprentices were known to have survived the war and moved to South America."

"Were any of them named Heinrich Hummel by any chance?" I asked knowing the answer.

"No, not that I recall." Carlos said, showing that I was not as smart as I thought I was. "His most famous, or infamous, was actually Josef Mengele, the Nazi 'Doctor of Death' who also seemed to be fascinated by magic as well." That revelation set me back for this was a direct tie in to Simon Wiesenthal's group since they had hunted this man. Could the Nazi's Wiesenthal had been hunting all been Schertel's apprentices?

"Alright for the moment I believe you Molly." Carlos said though none of the tension left his body. "But it means there is something big going on here in Chicago and I have to figure it out. It seems likely that Hitler's copy of Schertel's book contains at least some of the answers we need. I want you staying away from these Nazis until I get back, is that understood?"

I nodded and looked at him. "Is there a problem if I show the Katz book to my history teacher? Murphy does not trust Rabbi Rothstein's statements that it was not important due to his involvement in the case. Mr. Goldman speaks Hebrew and might be able to tell us if the book actually means anything. I also promised Murphy I would keep trying and get her some answers. She and the police are tracking these Nazis down anyway so it's not like they will need me." I explained.

"Yeah I guess I do not see a problem in that." Carlos said. "But I do not want to hear about you being anywhere near any other riots okay?" Some of his old smile was back, but I could see it was strained by things he could not or would not tell me about this case. "I will be back tonight hopefully and we can talk more then."

"I have a date at eight o'clock but should be back here by eleven." I said.

"What, you do not sit up at nights just thinking about me?" He asked and seemed somewhat heartbroken by the thought. Without further word he smiled and then departed with a promise to be here at eleven.

I found the wind up clock and noted I could get another hour nap if I went to bed right now. Hopefully Mr. Goldman would give me the answers I needed, but this potential connection to the U-505 might also be important. I wondered if I could get to Mercy Hospital and back before my martial arts lesson with Karrin. It looked like I was in for another busy day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Axis and Allies**

_**Wednesday Morning **_

_**Chapter 13**_

Professor John Goldman represented to me what every high school teacher should be. He was a man dedicated completely to his subject, that being history, and seemingly knew all there was to know about it. You could ask him an obscure historical date and he would rattle off from memory everything of importance that happened on that day. It did not matter if it was western, eastern, or just general history, the short five foot six inch man with the thick lens black framed glasses knew all there was too know about past events. And if he found himself through discussion lacking in some area, he immediately went and researched it to fill this gap.

By the same token you could ask him what color the cue ball was in billiards and he had no clue. Such day to day trivia that one acquires without even thinking about it just never was deemed important enough for the old man to purposely store in his mind for future recall. I remember when our school won the football division championship he put aside one class that week to ask members of the team to explain to him the game, and specifically the ultimate purpose behind playing it, so he might better judge the importance of our school's victory.

Mr. Goldman had come to our school after teaching in colleges for twenty three years, declaring that the supposed 'bastions of free thinking for forming future leaders' had turned into the equivalent of degree producing fast food restaurants instead. He had declared that the only hope for truly educating America's youth at the present time was to touch young minds and show them the joys of diverse education before they became programmed by society to dine only at McHarvard or Yale King and start seeking only those degrees tied to dollar signs. While many in my classed laughed at him behind his back for such idealistic and certainly non-materialistic views, I always thought the old man probably had experienced a lot more happiness in his life that those who snickered at him would ever find in theirs. And heaven knows from his background he deserved it any he achieved.

Mr. Goldman's story was one all students heard at some time in their academic career at our school. Unlike other teachers, his was never inflated to make him out to be more that he was. In fact he refused to talk about it except with occasional students he found worthy. I was fortunate to count myself in that group.

He had been born in the late-1930s in some village outside of Bucharest, Romania to a middle class Jewish family. Then the war came and his father was taken away to a death camp while trying to find a way out of Romania for his family. He, like so many others, was never to be heard from again. That left his mother, sister, and John himself as a toddler who were hidden away in the village by sympathetic neighbors for the entire duration of the war. They had only emerged back into the sun when the German Army had retreated and the Soviets had 'liberated' Romania. Mama Goldman had quickly realized that while Karl Marx may have been a Jew at birth, the movement he had helped to found that now ran the Soviet Union held no love for those of his religion.

Once the war was declared over, the remaining trio of living Goldmans fled Romania. Through months of nightly walks, while avoiding Soviet patrols looking for people fleeing, and around or through fields of landmines waiting patiently to kill any who stepped upon them his mother led them to the promise of freedom. Finally after more than three months they made their way to a newly divided Germany. There within sight of her dream and a new life for her family John's mother was shot by Soviet guards while trying to lead her children through the barbwire fences that separated East from West. But her dying cry, and what can only be described as divine intervention, bought the children the necessary time to reach the freedom she had desired for them.

The pair would likely have been killed in the wire or at best ended up just more orphans in an already war torn country with far too many of them to take care of, had it not been for the fact a U.S. Chaplain, known as Father Jimmy to his boys, was out at the guard posts along the barbwire line offering comfort and prayer when the shooting had begun. He was no stranger to gunfire, having survived the landing at D-Day with the first wave as well as a rather terrible December in the city of Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge.

The soldiers on alert with him at the time swore in the official report on the incident that the white collared chaplain had himself raced directly into the barbwire strands, bullets flying at him as well, and dragged all three of the family to the American Sector using his own body as a shield for the children while carrying their wounded mother. Once there he tended to the mother who, though born a Jew, still allowed the priest to perform last rights on her. In exchange, the dying woman made the priest take an oath that he would see to the safety of her children. She had died thanking a man of God she had never met before, but who had made her believe in her last moments in this life that God would watch over her children.

For his bravery, Father Jimmy was recognized not only by the U.S. Army, but by the Catholic Church as well. His tour in Germany was cut short and he was sent to Washington D.C. to perform services for those buried at Arlington National Cemetery. In keeping with his oath, and as payment for his bravery, the Jesuits in Virginia accepted both Goldman children into their schools and saw they were educated, taken care of, and had want for nothing though neither was a Catholic.

John Goldman's sister never converted to Catholicism under this influence but had taken up the practice of a nurse and worked tirelessly at Johns Hopkins hospital to tend to those who needed the compassion she had been taught. John himself did choose to convert, but only after Father Jimmy forced him to study with rabbis of his own faith so that he made a knowledgeable decision not one based in some false sense of debt. It was during this time that John learned Hebrew and Yiddish.

Father Jimmy knew John was not one to follow in his own footsteps and join the priesthood, but he eagerly endorsed the boy's Jesuit inspired love of history, encouraging him instead to go into teaching and share this love. When John graduated Notre Dame, Father Jimmy, now dying of cancer, was the one at the end of the stage to hand him his diploma and offer his blessing for a life lived within God's favor. It was not therefore surprising that as John Goldman's own life drew closer to its end he chose to return to teaching in a Catholic School, in fact the very one that Father Jimmy O'Hare had been taught at as a student in Chicago many years earlier. And that is how I came to know this extraordinary man.

When the end of fourth period bell rang and the rest of my class filed out to go to the lunchroom I held back a bit so that I could speak to Mr. Goldman without being overheard by others. I noted almost instantly after the bell died out Mr. Goldman had retrieved one of the biographies or histories that he was always reading and dove into it with unabashed gusto. At his age his body did not require much food, and he had little love for the rowdiness of the cafeteria at lunchtime so a quiet hour to read was likely heaven on earth to him.

I made my way to his desk, having pulled the Katz Manuscript from my backpack and now holding it with both hands in front of my chest. "Mr. Goldman may I ask a favor of you?"

He somewhat reluctantly put his book to the side and turned to give me his full attention. "Ah yes Ms. Carpenter what can I do for you?" He asked noting the big and obviously old leather book I was holding. While some men's eyes might light up at gold or silver, Mr. Goldman's true love of life was learning rather than material wealth. A book such as I held now was like finding a Van Gogh at a garage sale.

"Sir I have this book called the Katz Manuscript but it is written in Hebrew. I was hoping you could maybe look at it and translate it for me." I said placing the old book on the desk before him. "I am wondering if it has anything to do with dirt."

"Molly you must understand that a book of this size is not quickly translated." He said looking at me seriously. "And without offense to your obvious lack of understanding, it is not like Hebrew is an easy language anyway." He opened the over and looked at the first pages. "Besides this is not Hebrew it is Yiddish, which before you get your hopes up is not any easier to read and quickly translate."

"Oh." I said, unable to fully hide the disappointment in my heart from leaking out.

"But lucky for you it is a book I am familiar with already, since it originally comes from my part of the world, so I do not need to read it to tell you what it is about." He said obviously admiring the pages. "I must admit this is a wonderful copy, however, so make sure you take special care of it." He closed it and handed it back to me before sitting back in his chair, pulling forth from his coat and lighting his pipe in complete defiance of school rules, before he began to talk.

"Have you ever heard of the Golem of Prague?" Mr. Goldman asked in that same way he asked all his other questions in class with a mixed tone of instructor and grandfatherly storyteller. Of course the subject of the question to me meant nothing at all, though I was hopeful that the Prague in question was the European city I had at least heard of.

"No sir I have not."

"Well that is not surprising." He said taking a non-judgmental puff on his pipe and blowing the smoke out through his nose like some feeble, aged, but wisdom-filled fire breathing dragon. I smiled at the image while I waited for him to continue.

"During the early sixteenth century the city of Prague was home to many Jewish scholars and mystics, I believe today their sect is known as the Kabala. The town itself was also a center of trade in the region as well, and Jewish merchants were therefore quite abundant and effective which led to some competition with the non-Jewish elements that eventually turned to bitter rivalries." Mr. Goldman began in his storyteller fashion. "In the year 1580, this being one of those rare stories of mysticism that has a specific date assigned, this rivalry ignited into almost outright war between the Jewish merchants and their Christian neighbors."

"While the actual spark that started this event has been speculated upon I tend to believe it was primarily greed. The Mayor of Prague found himself badly in debt to Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf the Second, and was willing to listen to anything that could help him in this regard." Mr. Goldman continued. "Like has happened many times before, in many places around Europe, the mayor decided that the small but relatively wealthy Jewish community of the town held the answers to his financial problems. The problem he faced was how to most easily and legally get his hands upon these riches. Legally being the key so that no one else could lay a claim of debt upon him."

"He tried first to secure loans with the Jewish money lenders but at rates to his advantage, which meant they were likely to never be paid back. When the Jewish fathers declined this offer the mayor was enraged, but still without any legal recourse. One cannot force others to make such loans." Mr. Goldman's words may seem to convey emotion, be he spoke them as calmly as a man giving a weather report for an average sunny day. "But where the negotiations failed him, a young firebrand priest by the name of Taddeush came into the picture with a plan."

"You must understand at this time and place the Holy Roman Empire that had once been nearly synonymous with the Catholic Church, had just suffered through the Protestant Reformation." He explained tapping out his pipe and putting it away. "By all accounts Emperor Rudolf II was not a Catholic, nor was he a Protestant. In fact, history records that Rudolf was something of a mystic, a strong believer in astrology and alchemy and a supporter of the occult arts as they are called." I swallowed at this reference for if that did not speak to Rudolf being a wizard in his time I don't know what did. It also made me wonder, due to a wizard's longevity, if Rudolf was still alive.

"A nation's population, especially at that time, often takes its cues from its leaders in matters of faith. At least the smart ones do not openly defy the faith of those in power." Mr. Goldman continued not noticing my involuntary swallow at his description of Emperor Rudolf II. "Since the emperor was uncommitted as far as religion was concerned, Father Taddeush saw the mayor's need for Jewish money as a stepping stone to bring Emperor Rudolf II back into the fold of the Church, and of course with him a sizable number of the Holy Roman Empire's citizenry. If the Father's efforts with the mayor were successful then he could parlay that into an appointment to the Emperor's court. Such a coup would ensure a cardinalship for the priest and possibly even a chance of consideration for Pope. This intersection for personal power combined with that of another's greed and the plot against the Jews of Prague was put into motion."

"Trusting in an old but reliable means of slander, Father Taddeush accused the Jews of Prague before the citizenry of the city of committing ritual murder in following the practices of their faith. To accomplish his part the mayor of Prague ordered his soldiers to support the Church in rooting out this nest of vipers infested within their city. As is normal in such situation the persecutions began and Jews were rounded up and allowed the option to leave the city safely if they signed over their material goods to the safekeeping of the mayor, or they would be thrown in jail to await a supposed trial some day in the future if they did not." Mr. Goldman paused and took a breath noting my interest showed no signs of waning as some students often did during a few of his stories.

"Needless to say the rabbis of Prague did not let such an affront to their religion and followers go without response. The majority of these old men, who sought only a peaceful resolution, walked to the mayor's residence and lodged a formal complaint with the mayor himself. They were systematically arrested and got themselves thrown into prison right along with their followers who had not taken the offered deal. For the rabbis though the charge of forming an insurrection was to be added at their trails as well."

"But the Jews of Prague had a firebrand of their own to call upon." Mr. Goldman smiled. "His name was Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel but his followers called him 'The Exalted One.'" It was this ability to draw up all but forgotten names and dates that always left me in awe.

"Rabbi Loew being a man of faith turned not to the sword but to the heavens. According to the stories the rabbi went to sleep and asked for guidance from God on how to help his people. And if the story of the Golem of Prague is true, God answered Rabbi Loew with a dream to create a golem and through it the Jews of Prague would be protected."

"In Judaism there is a book called the _Sefer Yetzirah_, known as The Book of Creation, in which it is said all the powerful words of God have been recorded including the most powerful of all, the _Shem Hameforash_ which is the true name of God. This book also includes those words that God supposedly used when he molded the clay into the form of man and breathed life into him creating Adam." He explained. "And finally it also contains those words used in his earlier attempts at making man that did not work so well for God."

He could see the instant of shock on my face at this last revelation. "You did not know that man is merely the result of a supposed series of trials and errors by God and what must amount to his divine kiln?" Mr. Goldman laughed at me.

"Um, no not really." I said. "We are taught that God is perfect so how could he have made mistakes?"

"Please let me know if you ever find the answer to that one." Mr. Goldman said with a knowing smirk.

"However, let's get back to the subject at hand which you came here to ask me about." Mr. Goldman continued. "The firebrand Rabbi Loew decided that as a representative of God's Chose People, he would use the knowledge provided in the dream and with the aid of the _Sefer Yetzirah _to seek the protection this course of action offered."

"The rabbi along with his two most faithful followers went to the river and gathered up mud and clay as was described in the Old Testament as what God himself had done, formed it into a human shaped creature that Judaism calls a golem, and then gave it life through use of the words God had used. Supposedly to accomplish this task required the four to call upon the elements of Fire, Water, Air, and Earth. Through their faith the three caused the golem to come to life as the dream had commanded." I knew without saying so that calling upon the four elements was also key in many forms of magic, though I was not about to share my knowledge of this particular subject with Mr. Goldman.

"So then a golem looks like a clay and mud monster?" I asked trying to better understand.

"Hardly." Mr. Goldman laughed. "According to the story Rabbi Loew named the golem Joseph because for all that saw him, none could distinguish him from a normal man."

"A normal man?" I asked suddenly realizing and yet dreading what I was about to hear as confirmation.

"The only thing Joseph could not do is talk." Mr. Goldman said. "I think I recall that all he could do is make a horrible growling type noise and this actually enraged him for he knew it made him less than human."

Suddenly my encounter last night seemed all too familiar with what was going on. I tried not to think too much about it and instead listened to Mr. Goldman continue his story. At some point, someone stopped the golem and I figured that was knowledge that I absolutely needed to hear and pass along to Murphy. But one last question seemed necessary to ask first to eliminate other possibilities.

"Could this golem have actually been a zombie?" I asked. "Or some other creature made of flesh?"

Mr. Goldman seemed to pause and consider my inquiry as if to process this question like a computer seeking to retrieve a file. "A zombie as in a dead body animated to walk again such as through voodoo?" He asked. "Is that what you are asking?" He tried to confirm.

"Yes."

"No." He replied after a pause to consider. "Not unless the historical records and stories on this event are in error. A golem is made from dirt or clay, not from formerly living flesh. What you are describing is more akin to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein if such a creature were to actually exist." He said quoting the correct book even.

"Rabbi Loew then set Joseph loose with orders to protect the Jews of Prague from the mayor's soldiers and the actions of Taddeush the priest." Mr. Goldman continued with his own explanation. I started to get an eerie chill over how this story suddenly seemed all too similar to what was happening here in Chicago. "Joseph did not seek to create violence on these people, at least not at first, but instead merely appeared and defended Jews when they were threatened by the soldiers."

"But it is important to remember Molly, God had been trying to make man, a creature with intellect that could learn over time." He explained. "As the golem was called to protect more and more, he figured out that to truly guard the Jews of Prague he had to take the fight directly to the mayor and the priest rather than merely wait always for their forces to make the first move each time."

"A golem is capable of learning?" I asked. If that were so this was not a good thing.

"Certainly." Mr. Goldman confirm. "But of course that is based upon how long it survives. In the case of the Golem of Prague the orders it had been given were open ended. Its mission was to defend the Jews of Prague therefore until such time as no Jew lived within the city, the golem would continue to protect him or her. That is, of course, providing its maker did not undo it." That sounded like a key piece of information for this story.

"On the other hand there are stories where a golem is called up as a sort of religious hand of vengeance." He said. "In those cases the creatures mission was merely to seek out those who they were charged with slaying, and of course anyone unfortunate enough to get in their way or attempt to keep them from completing their mission, and kill them all. At this point having accomplished their mission they would return to the earth from which they were made."

Well that certainly seemed pretty consistent with what I had observed over the past few nights. And based upon this story and the players involved there were no doubts in my mind as to who was behind this though as Harry always told me it was good to be sure of your facts.

"Are these vengeance golems made in the same way?" I asked hoping Mr. Goldman knew.

"For the most part yes." He answered. "The only difference is that they are usually made solely by a rabbi who has suffered a great loss. The stories require him to wear a tear in the shirt over his heart."

"A _keriah_." I said remembering the word I had heard at the wake for Jonathan Rothstein.

"Ah you are familiar with it Ms. Carpenter." He said with a glimmer of respect in his eyes. I was too busy putting pieces together to spend too much time basking in his praise. "Oh Ishmael what have you done?" I thought to myself.

"Well what happened in Prague?" I asked. I needed to hear the end of the story and especially how to kill such a creature.

"Well if the stories are to be believed the golem attacked and set fire to the city killing many of the city's guards in the process." He said continuing on. "The weapons of the city's soldiers were ineffective against the creature since a sword or gun attacking the ground does very little damage to the ground. Joseph also sought out the priest, Father Taddeush, and killed him as well, in a most horrible fashion of suffocation if I recall the story correctly."

"Finally, in panic, the Mayor of Prague sent word to Emperor Rudolf II who, if the stories are true, came to Rabbi Loew and asked him to call off his monster."

"I should, for the sake of completeness say that some stories have the Emperor actually doing battle with the creature though his knowledge of alchemy and occult sciences." Mr. Goldman continued. "I of course put no credence into stories of magic myself, but you seem to want the entire myth so I would be negligent if I failed to include such details, even if they are farfetched stories of wizards and such."

"Well at least they make for an interesting story." I said as calmly as I could. I now was certain that Emperor Rudolf was in fact a wizard and that whatever types of spells he had at his disposal were obviously of limited use against the golem. That meant I had been wise to avoid battle last night, even if I had the strength for it. But at least the emperor had survived. I took that as a good sign for wizards facing golems everywhere.

"Rabbi Loew conceded to the Emperor's request in exchange for the release of the Jews being held by the Mayor of Prague and the restoration of their property." Mr. Goldman finished. "According to the story the Emperor did one better, removing the mayor from office; permanently!"

"What happened to the golem?" I asked.

"According to legend the golem returned to the temple attic where it had been created and was deactivated once more by Rabbi Loew." Mr. Goldman answered. "The story says a tablet with his name on it was removed from the creature's mouth. I have heard that the oldest temple in Prague does in fact have a clay man shaped object in its attic, but of course I have never seen this myself or otherwise know it to be more than a story."

I sat there and thought that over for a while. Then another inconsistency hit me. Wait a minute." I said. "You were speaking about a book called the _Sefer…"_ I forgot the name.

"The _Sefer Yetzirah."_ He supplied.

"Right the _Sefer Yetzirah._" I repeated. "But what does that have to do with the Katz Manuscipt?" I asked.

"The Katz Manuscript is the documented record of the story that I just told you." He said. "If the legend of the Golem of Prague is true, then it was recorded by Rabbi Loew's son-in-law, Rabbi Katz, who was one of the two assistants at the ceremony."

"So then this book would not tell someone how to perform the ceremony, it was merely a record of the ceremony." I said for confirmation.

"Exactly Molly." He nodded. "Of course to perform it, if that were your intent, you would also have to convert to Judaism, become a man, and take the vows of a rabbi. All in all I think there are easier pursuits for a girl your age." He laughed and I smiled as well.

I pulled my backpack over my shoulder. "Thank you Mr. Goldman." I said. "You have been a wonderful help."

"It was nothing Molly." He replied. "Just an old man telling his stories." He said. "We all have them you know and most of us are willing to talk about them with anyone willing to listen. It is really I who should be thanking you for this opportunity. You really are a special young lady." He smiled at me though I quickly avoided his eyes so that he not inadvertently learn just how 'special' I was.

I left his classroom, Mr. Goldman returning immediately to his book, and headed to the office to check out for the day. I did not even have to ask permission this time to leave, a note had been left with the school secretary by the vice principal said that I should be allowed to leave whenever I was required in order to help the police. Well, Murphy had come through for me, and now I would be coming through for her as well it seems.

I looked at my watch realizing that I had almost three hours before I was supposed to meet Karrin at the gym. I weighed my options of going to Harry's office or trying to close off another of the loose ends still remaining in this case. Otherwise I could go searching for the watch, but I really wanted to put this one away completely first. But I was certainly not going to go hunting down the remaining Nazis like I had thought to do last night. The police were on that case and they were welcome to it as far as I was concerned.

By the same token I was not going to go out and confront Ishmael directly either. First because it is not like Emperor Rudolf II had done all that well against a golem and I had a feeling, being an emperor and all, his access to and knowledge of magic and wizardry at the time of his confrontation exceeded that of a certain perky high school apprentice wizard.

Secondly though, I am not sure that I could find it in my heart to condemn him for his actions. Yes according to a strict interpretation of the First Law of Magic he had killed by the use of magic. Well at least I think that he did. But then again he was a rabbi and not a wizard so his power had been based upon his faith rather than true magic such as I could tap into. Was that a technicality or did that remove him from the White Council's jurisdiction completely? I had to admit I did not know. It would be something I should ask Carlos about when I saw him later tonight.

Either way though I still had trouble seeing what the old man had done was completely wrong. His book of faith spoke of an eye for an eye. These Nazis had killed his grandson, perhaps for no reason, or perhaps for whatever he and his grandfather had dedicated their lives toward protecting if Murphy's conspiracy theory were actually true. Ishmael had merely upheld the tenets of his faith in these actions. He had done what he had seen as his duty to his family, his faith, and his heart.

I realized at that point the reason I could not find fault in Ishmael's actions is that I had made the same sort of choice myself not long ago. At that time I had not desired to break the Laws of Magic, hell I did not even know they had even existed when I did so. All I had wanted to do was to rescue two of my friends from a life of addiction. And to do that I had used the powers that God had granted me to save their lives.

I sat behind the wheel of the Blue Beetle, the engine not running at the moment as my course was still undecided. I tried to reconcile all I had learned from Harry about these choices that we were called upon to make. I had learned the Laws and promised to live within them, but even now I could not say honestly that I had acted incorrectly back then, or that knowing what I do now, I would still act any differently if called upon to make a similar choice again, with of course one major difference; Harry.

Harry throws himself into danger constantly for those he cares about, one perky high school wizard apprentice consistently being near the top of that list. The only thing that keeps me from doing the same is my understanding that a wrong choice on my part would mean Harry would have to pay for it as well. I knew the Merlin hated him, but now I realized that the leader of the White Council had manipulated Harry into taking me on as his apprentice to place him in checkmate for all the trouble he had caused. To protect me Harry gave up all the freedom he had fought so hard to attain for himself. And because of that I could not take a chance of minimizing that gift by doing something completely reckless and foolish.

Well that meant confronting Ishmael was out. I could not look at a man who had been through so much, lost so much, and tell him he was wrong. I could not trust myself to do the right thing as far as the White Council saw it. And without that trust I was not going to put myself in a situation where I could make the wrong choice and Harry have to pay for it.

But that did not take away all my options. There was still whatever roll in these events Heinrich Hummel was playing to determine. And if the nurse had been correct it was not like he was in any shape to cause me much trouble at the moment. That of course did not mean he would willingly answer all my questions, but I was counting on what Mr. Goldman had told me to take care of that. I hoped it was true that all old men have their stories and most are willing to talk about them with anyone willing to listen. Well Heinrich, the time to tell your story is here.


	14. Chapter 14

**Axis and Allies**

_**Wednesday Afternoon **_

_**Chapter 14**_

"Mr. Hummel is in…" With a rather dramatic flash and pop that made the CD-Rom tray on the computer launch across the reception counter, the sign in computer for guests as Mercy Hospital died. Of the half dozen or so people present I was the one showing the least look of surprise upon my face, though my eyes did widen at the interesting effect as I had never seen one become a projectile before. Usually such systems just shorted out or showed the blue screen of death. Flinging off parts of itself was certainly new to me and made me wonder if my own irritated mood somehow created this specific breakdown effect. I was a sensitive wizard, so maybe my emotional condition influenced these types of events with electronics as well as with people.

"Oh my God!" The duty nurse cried jumping away from the machine and drew everyone's attention in the room with her cry. I did not move nearly as fast as everyone else to escape the immediate area and so in turn also drew the attention of everyone present. Thankfully I had been two feet or more from the machine so I could not be blamed directly for what had occurred.

"That was a brand new machine." The nurse said horrified as with a final shower of sparks it died completely.

"It must be that new computer virus I heard about." I said trying to offer some explanation off the cuff to the crowd. The nurse looked at me skeptically but since I had not touched the computer there is no way it reasonably could be my fault; well not unless she knew something about wizards and their effects. "At least it should still be under warranty." I said hoping to turn her mind to something else.

Unable to reconcile in her mind what I could have done from a distance, with what occurred the nurse picked up a clipboard and began to page through the sheets printed on it. "Who did you say you were looking for?" She asked tersely. I guess almost being injured by ejected computer components can do that to some people, though I would think a nurse better prepared for odd occurrences.

"Hummel." I said. "Mister Heinrich Hummel. I believe he is a cancer patient. They brought him in by ambulance yesterday so maybe he is in intensive care?" I offered, though the idea of going into such a place where high-tech machines might be the only life support some patients had to keep them breathing did give me pause.

She obviously found the entry she was looking for. "No he was moved over to Ward D." She said. "Only family is allowed on that ward due to the patients' condition. You will have to show some sort of documented proof of relationship before I can allow you to access to those spaces. Not long ago we found a scam artist trying to get these people to sign over their possessions to him with Xerox copied instant wills." She explained. I assume you are related to Mr. Hummel?"

"I am ma'am but I cannot prove it right now. I carry my father's name not my mother's." I said trying to force tears to my eyes and pushing out a sympathy vibe. "I am his granddaughter, my mother was his only child and she died of cancer too not long ago also but before making peace with her father over marrying my dad. When I heard he had cancer too I could not let him die without trying to reconcile as I am the only family he has remaining."

Alright it was no Shakespeare tragedy I was performing but then again the Bard did not have my magic backing him up. Even though the tough as nails nurse had heard it all before and was not likely swayed by my little performance, those around me I could sense were all in my corner now and were looking at the nurse expecting her to do the right thing. It is one thing to blow off one of the thousands of sob stories you were subjected to, but it was another to do so while being stared at by the crowd.

"I see." She said as I noticed her shuffling from foot to foot in obvious conflict between duty and being thought of as a cold hearted bitch by everyone watching us.

"I understand ma'am." I said allowing her think I was willing to let her off the hook. But of course I wasn't. "If you could tell him Rabbi Ishmael's daughter Molly has come to talk to him I am certain he would agree to speak with his granddaughter immediately." I said keeping the sympathetic sense going all around me.

"Why should I call you Rabbi Ishmael's daughter rather than his granddaughter?" She asked.

"As I said he never approved of the marriage." I explained. "He has never met me and I am afraid if I do not try to see him now he will never get the chance again." Oh come on lady this should be an afternoon Harlequin movie presentation on the Romance Channel. If I step this up any more I am going to have to retell this whole story on the Oprah Show for god's sake. I kept the tears brimming in my eyes.

Fate stepped in at that time as a hospital orderly passed through the reception room and the nurse saw her chance to step out from between the rock and the hard place I had manipulated her into.

"Jeff." She called out and he came over like an obedient dog. Maybe she was just a different sort of bitch I thought.

"Go to room eleven of Ward D and tell Mr. Hummel that Rabbi Ishmael's daughter has come to see him." She said repeating my story. "If he is strong enough bring him out to the patio in a wheelchair so the two can talk." She ordered. "But if he is asleep or does not know her then I am afraid there is nothing more we can do for you miss." She said carefully walking the tightrope between her professional duties and personal feelings.

I paused and bit my lip wondering if there was a better way I could identify myself to the man I had met only briefly. "This is the best I can do for you." She said challenging me to dare and ask for anything more.

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!" I said in honesty, mostly relieved I did not have to keep telling this story. I was resigned to the fact that I would now have to go to confession on Sunday and explain my actions to Father Forthill how and the reasons why I had lied. I only hoped the results would prove to be worth the price as Father Forthill was notorious for rather steep penances for those in my age bracket.

"Go down the left corridor and you will see the patient patio." The nurse explained. "If he is not there in fifteen minutes then he is not coming." She said ending our conversation by turning to look at the next person in line as if I had already departed.

I went where I was directed and actually was pleased to sit out in the patio as my senses were suddenly relieved of the feelings of sadness and death that tend to hover around the inside of hospitals. It actually took only twelve minutes, but I spotted the same orderly pushing Mr. Hummel in a wheelchair toward me along the corridor. I went to the door to meet them and opened it.

"I can take it from here." I offered hoping that the orderly would leave us alone to talk.

"Well I don't know…"

"Son." Mr. Hummel said. "Your own doctors have explained to me that I will not live to see this Sunday." He said shocking me with both his openness and his resigned lack of emotion to his fate. "Does this girl look foolish enough to throw her entire life away seeking to harm me when in four days I will be dead anyway?"

Whatever argument the orderly wanted to make was completely destroyed by Heinrich's revelation. Being unable to respond at all to this blunt assessment the orderly merely passed the wheelchair over to me before giving me final instructions. "Mr. Hummel's chair has a call button on it. Just ring it when he is ready to return to his room."

I nodded but thought to myself "Great more electronic gizmos." The orderly left and I pushed Mr. Hummel out into the sun as he requested and then sat as far away as I could while still remaining social. I hoped he understood I did this for his benefit and not because I thought he was contagious or anything like that.

"You are one of them aren't you?" He asked while leaning his face back, eyes closed, to feel the sun warming his skin once more. In the two days since he had approached me at the Holocaust museum seeking to speak with Ishmael his body, well with the exception of his bloated belly, had become gaunt and his skin had turned somewhat sickly grey in color. Perhaps this air of death, his death, that hung around him is why I had suspected he was a necromancer. Now I saw he was merely a lonely, dying old man.

"One of who?" I asked.

"One of the Zauberer-Staffel." He said. "Hitler's Wizard Squadron, though you must be a second or third generation by the look of you. If you have come seeking your revenge after sixty years then you should know everything I told the orderly was true. Therefore all you're killing me now would accomplish is to prevent me from suffering horrible pain for the next four days. The morphine they have me on barely dulls the burning in my stomach anymore so you are certainly welcome to end this existence and make a name for yourself with the rest of the Red Shirts as the one who avenged your master."

Okay Molly so much for thinking you had this whole situation understood. Obviously there were still a few loose ends that were currently outside you comprehension. But thankfully you have this fine gentleman here before you to fill in these blanks.

"Heinrich I do not know anything about a Wizard Squadron, Red Shirts, or actually just about anything you just said." I answered honestly making him open his eyes and look at me.

"I was certain I felt…" He said in a moment of confusion written plainly across his face. This washed away to be replaced by one of obvious anger focused at me. "Do not lie to me girl. I felt the same power of magic in you that I had felt all those years ago. You are not dealing with a senile old man, just one whose body has betrayed him."

"Sir I am not denying what I am." I said. Here it comes, the famous 'I am a wizard' declaration that never ends well for me. "I am indeed a wizard, but I know nothing of any of those other subjects."

"Is this true?" He asked in awe.

"Sir I try really hard not to lie." I said. "Well okay in order to get to see you I had to lie but that was an exception to my general rule. If you knew my priest Father Forthill you would understand."

"Father Forthill?" He asked and I merely nodded. "Describe him to me." He demanded and I immediately did so since I had seen him at least twice a week since, well since I was born I think. At my descriptions the old man merely nodded as if caught up in thoughts of his own.

"No one is truly that gifted of a liar." He said after some time and his body seemed to relax as he turned to look at me. "Father Forthill was the priest who took my last confession last week. He was the one who explained everything to me. He was the reason I was seeking out Rabbi Rothstein when we first met." He said in a paused series of disjointed but obviously connected in his mind comments.

"Sir I do not have much time." I said. "Can you explain it all to me?" I asked knowing there was an important story here.

"We all may not have much time." He said quietly. "I only hope that if that is true I die from my cancer before that world changing event comes to pass."

I let him sit in silence for a moment, unsure if he were gathering his thoughts or caught in a morose moment. Either way I could feel time ticking past and knew I had to be out of here in the next thirty minutes if I had any hope of meeting Murphy's appointment. I was just about to ask him again to tell me what he was speaking of when he asked me a question first.

"Have you ever been in love Molly?" He turned to me but I did not let him look me in the eyes.

The question of course caught me off guard so I stuttered for an answer. "No…maybe…I don't know." I said finally not really wanting to confront this particular subject myself. It was not one I was particularly comfortable with just talking within my own mind so I certainly did not feel like opening up and sharing it with a complete stranger.

"If you had been you would know." Heinrich said and then silence grew up between us once more.

"In college in Kiel, Germany in 1939 I fell in love with a wonderful girl named Magda while learning to be a maritime engineer." He said. "She was studying physical engineering for architecture, something almost unheard of at the time for a woman to be pursuing but she was the smartest in her class by far. I guess she was rather frumpy compared to you girls today, but I loved her all the same and she proclaimed to share the same feelings for me. Perhaps all would have ended well if not for two things. First of course was the war that was brewing in Germany and soon across all of Europe. And second was that she was born a Jew."

His eyes held that distance of a person caught up reliving memories of the past. "In September all in Germany heard that Britain and France had declared war upon us for trying to protect those of German heritage living in Poland from the abuses they suffered from that government. Only after the war would I learn that this story, and many of Hitler's other speeches had been lies concocted and fueled by his Red Shirts."

I wanted to ask who the Red Shirts were, but did not want to interrupt his story. "Hitler had not expected war." He said. "His plans had not called for it for another four years at the earliest. He had thought the English and French would merely protest and all would end in tense peace as it had when he marched into Czechoslovakia a year earlier. We had only begun building our army to what was required to face our historic foes. Our Air Force, while modern compared to those on our borders, was still tiny compared to all the others as well. But most of all our navy was ill prepared to close down the Atlantic as we knew would be required of them if we had any hope to win a war with Britain. We had failed to accomplish this goal in the First World War and we had lost because of it. The navy had been promised by Hitler that there would be no war until 1943, but now the battle had begun and they were scrambling to respond."

"I was the top in my class, though I had yet to graduate from my final classes, the Kreigsmarine, The German Navy, drafted me to assist in ship building since there were far too few of us in the country with such skills." He looked at me for only a moment. "Magda, because of her engineering skills, was recruited too, I heard to help design and build stronger fortifications. She promised to write me once she was settled, but we knew with the war such communications would likely be rare. We did promise to meet up again once the war was over. That was the last time I ever saw her in anything but my dreams…and my nightmares."

"Not yet having completed college I was of limited help in designing those surface ships such as Bismarck that would see combat. The other engineers claimed not to want me because I had not finished my degree but I knew it was because I was smarter than they were and that they feared me because of it." He said without any hint of a sense of pride. "I pointed flaws out in their designs and in response they had me sweep offices and clean toilets since I was the junior man. I was shuffled from one project to the next, given only menial tasks, until the 25th of September arrived. On that day I was called into the office of the chief maritime engineer of the port who said I was to be assigned my own ship to design. It was to be a very special submarine. He then introduced me to the Red Shirt who had ordered the boat's creation but who also had some very odd yet specific requirements."

"I looked into the very eyes of true evil that day." He said. "Some say the eyes are the windows to the soul. If that is true then this man's soul was already trapped in a Hell. I heard the wailing of people dying as they gasped out their final breath and screamed in the horror that awaited them. And with every scream I could feel the man's power and insanity coiling stronger and stronger on itself, like a snake getting ready to strike." He said explaining quite effectively the feeling of a soul gaze with a wizard. The Red Shirts, therefore, must be the Wizard Squadron that he spoke of earlier I reasoned.

Thankfully I had never experienced such an event a being of such power or such evil, but my own limited experiences along with his descriptions were enough to make me shudder.

"What was worse I could feel he was looking into my own soul as well; laying bare all my secrets." He nearly whispered. "He knew my instinct was to flee and instead of stopping me he merely smiled like something better seen on a corpse and I knew right then he would still find me. I knew there was no escape from hi after what I had seen.

He paused for a full minute containing the obvious fear that still haunted him from nearly seventy years earlier. Finally he whispered even softer still so I had to strain to hear what he said. "I can only assume it was then that he had learned about Magda." Then he went silent again for another minute as a tear trickled down his face.

"I worked on the U-boat plans for him for the next nine months incorporating all his strange requirements for hidden spaces and thirteen extra metal columns that between the inner and outer skin of the boat by the Captain's cabin. There were each made of a different material, such as copper, which was incredibly rare and vital for war production and served no purpose on this ship. But the Red Shirt had no problem acquiring these vital war supplies so they were added into the ship's plans and eventually her actual construction." He explained.

"To anyone else she would appear just a normal Class IX fleet submarine like the hundreds we would produce. Even her crew who may have served on other Class IXs would not be able to see the strange additions added to the ship or the odd runes carved or painted in spaces where they would never see the light of day. I did this all just as he commanded because I was afraid of what he would do to me if I did not."

Harry had taken me to McAnally's Pub, the getaway place in Chicago where those gifted in magic came for a quiet night out. McAnally's sounded very similar in some ways to these added features in the U-boat. The pub used its thirteen columns to break up the random energies that wizards gave off and the runes to disperse most spells. It sounded like the Red Shirt wizard had the captain's cabin outfit the same way. That would make sense he wanted to use the ship to travel on. That way if the wizard stayed in the cabin, he likely would not short out any vital components needed to run, or especially surface, the boat in an emergency.

"The Red Shirt would come by and check on me once a week when I was drawing up his designs and once a month once her keel was first laid down on 12 June 1940 until she was finally launched on May 24, 1941." He continued. "Whenever the time came to add one of these odd components or inscribe a rune, the Red Shirt seemed to know it and was present to perform this duty himself. This always happed only at night, and I was the only one allowed to observe these events taking place, the rest of the shipbuilder's were given a rare half day off and would return the next day to find that area of the ship completed. I think the Red Shirt knew that he made me uncomfortable so my presence there when he added these pieces was merely a means to torture me until I had to finish welding a section."

"Normally when a boat was launched the designing engineer was released to pursue the next project, leaving it up to the boat's crew and specifically the crew's chief engineer to solve any remaining maintenance issues." He continued. "But when my boat was launched my orders as a design engineer were changed and I was commissioned as a chief engineer for the very boat I had just built. The smile I saw the next time the Red Shirt came to call as he observed me in my new naval uniform was all the proof I needed to know the orders for my enlistment had originated with him."

"By 1942, with the entry of America into the war Hitler ordered all U-boats to close the Atlantic. Up until that time we had not served in any war patrols but rather spent our time working with new crews as a training ship instead. I suspected this was at the Red Shirt's insistence so that we would always be available for him. But with the new push, Hitler overrode the wizard's orders and we were sent to do our part as well."

"For our first four war patrols we did well, sinking eight allied ships, but karma caught up to us on that fourth mission and an allied aircraft damaged us with depth charges before we shot it down. Unfortunately, the second watch officer and a lookout were injured in the attacks from shrapnel and bullet wounds. While the rest of the crew tended to our wounded, only I noticed that each drop of blood the injured spilled upon the ship was absorbed into the metal, as if the ship itself were drinking it. I dared not tell anyone what I had observed for fear of what effect it would have on the crew."

"During our next five patrols through the summer of 1943 when we were needed the most to help stem the tide of America's war effort, our boat was either hunted mercilessly or was forced to return to port for maintenance issues after only a few days at sea. I swear I heard the ship hungering for more of the crew's blood. It seemed to demand sacrifice as if it were a living thing. So terrible was our record at that point that the others in our flotilla claimed we were a boat 'that would always return' because we never left port for more than a few days at most."

"On our tenth patrol we were again hunter mercilessly by an allied destroyer until in madness before the entire command section of our boat our captain committed suicide by shooting himself. The first mate took charge and ordered his body removed to his cabin immediately. Once more I was the only one who noticed that there was no blood on any part of the boat, only where it dried on the body. But perhaps the Captain's sacrifice to whatever possessed our boat had been enough and the first mate got us safely away from the destroyer and back to port."

"By the spring of 1944 we in the navy knew the war was lost for us." He said. "The Allies had not yet invaded France but they were working their way up Italy. On the Eastern Front the Russian had crushed our army and we were in a fighting withdrawl after a brutal winter. We aboard the U-505 expected soon, like so many of our comrades, that we would be killed by your navies in the coming months as well."

"The U-505?" I asked. "The same one in the museum?"

"Yes that one." He confirmed.

"On the Ides of March, I remember because he greeted me by saying 'Beware the Ides of March from the Shakespeare play, the Red Shirt returned and ordered us to sea." Heinrich explained. "This time though he explained he was coming aboard and that once we were underway he would give us our ultimate destination and orders."

"This was odd of course because the fleet was to make all such orders for every U-boat so we could best coordinate our actions. But when the Captain called he was informed that we were to follow the Red Shirt's orders, even to die if we must, to see his mission through. Our boat was no longer part of the fleet. We were now assigned to Project Odessa and the future and destiny of the Reich lay in our hands. We were to have no contact with the rest of the fleet until we returned and were given such permission."

"The U-505 set sail the next day, the Red Shirt only telling us that we were to hug the African coast as we made our way south. While the Captain knew our orders and had shared them with the senior crew, of which I was a member, he had in his haste forgotten to inform our radioman of these changes. As he had been trained to do every night he sent out our encrypted position so that if sunk, another sub could come to our rescue. That is what they had told him and the rest of us during training to make us proud to know we would not die in the open ocean alone. The radioman did not know there would be no other submarines to save us."

"The stories say the American's found us because they had cracked our Enigma machine in Britain." Heinrich explained. "But I know that they had wizards onboard their ships too. I know that it was their wizards who found us, not their code breakers and certainly not their sonar and random chance that led them to us."

"When the attack began I found the Red Shirt sitting in the Captain's quarters that he had commandeered calmly awaiting death as if he knew there was no escape for us. In the U-boats no one was allowed to surrender to this type of fate for it caused those around them to give up as well. Granted, he was not one of us, but still I hated him for this display of resignation."

"I sneered at him for his cowardice." He said. "Perhaps I too knew we were doomed and did not like living in fear of this man any longer."

"'Do you want to know what became of your Jew girl?' He asked me as if he did not care about the destroyers stalking us but instead wanted to cause me just a little more pain."

"Madga?"

"Yes, that is the one."

"'What do you know?' I said raising him from his bunk with one hand at threatening to strike him with a pipe wrench. Even in the nay, far from the Death Camps, we had heard rumors of what had been happening to Jews. I had lied to myself for years, saying it would not happen to Magda as she was too valuable an engineer for German to waste. The cold look of mirth in his eyes shattered these self delusions for me."

"'Her essence tasted delicious.' He said. 'Or did you never find that out for yourself?' He taunted me obviously seeing from my expression that I had not. 'It seems I have shared more with your love than you have.' He mocked my pain with cold, cruel laughter."

"At that moment our ship was struck by an Allied depth charge attack and we began to flood. Those of us aboard standing were thrown from out feet and because I had been holding him up the Red Shirt's head struck the bulkhead with a sickening crunch like a can being crushed."

"But this horrible wound did not kill him as it would any normal man. Instead the broken pieces of skull began to shift and return to their spot." He explained. "Even the blood from his head that splashed upon the floor was not normal. It lay there even more bright red than I had ever seen but the ship would not drink it as it would that of the others in the crew."

"'You cannot kill me on this boat.' He mocked me. 'I infused her with my soul. As long as I stand upon her no one can kill me. I am as immortal as the gods… the old gods…and those not yet born. Your Magda died because she served the old order. But through her death…"

"I was enraged and swung the wrench at him again and again to stop him from speaking of my love so. But while I could feel the blows crushing bones, dislocating his jaw so he could not speak, he continued to smile and mock me and the pain he had caused as each new wound began to heal right before my eyes."

"The damage that the Allies had done to our boat was extensive. The Captain was sure that we were going to sink so he ordered the ballast tanks blown so we could surface and allow the crew to get off safely. I felt us bob to the surface and knew what was happening even trapped as I was in my blinding rage."

"Once on the surface we could hear the bullets from the sailors aboard ships and from airplanes flying overhead running along our deck and the sides of our ship, but still it was face the Allied bullets and jump into the sea or lie entombed forever in the metal coffin that was our boat when she sank. For the crew who had seen so many friends not return to port, there was no choice when a possibility to live existed."

Only the Red Shirt showed no desire to leave the boat, but as I still had my hand around his throat and could, in my rage, hold him aloft I growled something inhuman at him dragged him up the ladder of the ship's conning tower with me as he struggled to speak. His gasps though were cut off as my hand grasped even harder along his throat and crushed his windpipe like breaking a piece of bamboo."

"Some bullets flew around us but by then all of the rest of the crew was already in the water. I barely noticed that my life could end at any moment from a stray shot as I was focused solely upon this man struggling in my hands. In fact, as chief engineer it had been my job to set the scuttling charges if there was a chance for us to be captured, but I had not done so. I did not care if the Allies took charge of this demon's boat. They were welcome to it and all the horror it carried along with it. At that minute all I wanted to do was kill this man who struggled for breath."

"'You said you cannot die while on this boat!' I screamed at him as the conning tower was hit again by a new burst of machinegun fire from the small boat of Americans headed our way. 'Let's see if these same rules apply in the open ocean!' And with that I leapt into the sea, carrying his struggling form with me. I sucked in a great breath of air just before we hit the water and dove deep. He struggled against me but I released his throat which immediately began to repair itself and instead kicked to push us down deeper still into the cold water. Finally, unable to hold back any longer with his neck repaired, he sucked in sea water rather than air making him unable to even scream as he drowned. My greatest sin that I told Father Forthill of was this murder that I committed; and that I could not find it in my heart to regret it even to this day."

Heinrich smiled even though he had just admitted to committing murder. What he obviously did not know if that his actions in killing the wizard this way had prevented him from calling down his death curse. He had in fact likely saved his own life, which by definition made this an act of self-defense and therefore not a sin at all.

"I am sorry Heinrich." I said and he looked at me seeing from my own look that I was neither lying nor patronizing. "I am certain Father Forthill absolved you of your sins."

"He absolved me of killing Ernst Schertel like this but I have never been able to forgive myself for the role I had in Magda's death." He said silently. "That is why I needed to speak to your friend Rabbi Rothstein. If I could have told him we were not all like that. We had not all wanted the Jews to die. Some of us had loved…" He broke into sobs unable to finish his sentence. "I thought perhaps if he could hear my story and forgive me, then maybe I could forgive myself. But it is too late for that now. I do not have the strength anymore to leave this hospital, and why would he come to see me die?"

The name of Ernst Schertel did not stream past me without notice. While the White Council thought he had died in the city of Dresden, I now knew otherwise. The question of course was just what was he up to. While Mr. Hummel had provided some answers, the picture was still not complete. I now knew only Ishmael Rothstein could put these remaining pieces in place, but Murphy had told me to stay away from him.

We sat for five minutes in silence. I had never seen someone so broken inside as Heinrich was. But I agreed as well that there was no way Ishmael would come to hear the confession of a man who he would view as helping kill his people. Ishmael too was full of hate for such people, and would likely be satisfied knowing he died unforgiven.

It was moments like this that an image of my father always came to mind. He was a man of unblinding faith and when God required action from him, he always provided the means to accomplish it. Things just seemed to arrange themselves in his favor when they were required.

Now I could see what I could only assume was the subtle hand of God in this story as well. Too many elements were at play to be completely random and many left me balancing choices for a way to make this all work out correctly in the end.

"Heinrich, if I can arrange a meeting with Rabbi Ishmael Rothstein will you promise to do what I say?" I asked opening up my backpack.

"He will not come to see an old Nazi die." He said resigned.

"No, but you can go to him, if I call and tell you where to meet us." I said making him look at me.

"I fear I do not have the energy for such travel." He explained pointing at the chair he was in.

I handed him over one of my pick me up energy potions still sealed. "Hide this until I call you with a location of where and when to meet me." I said. He looked skeptical as if I was offering a miracle cure. "It is merely a potion of energy. It will give you a couple hours of strength but that is all. It is not a cure for cancer."

"My young lady if it does what you say it will then it is a miracle none the less." He said with thanks in his eyes. "I will await your call and instructions. Please do not take too long, I fear I do not have much time."

"Here put these on first." Murphy said handing me a set of black pajama like clothes that I had seen martial artists wear but had never thought was something for adding to my wardrobe. While I was cool with the color, it certainly held an ominous tone to the way she commanded it.

"Uuummm... I thought you were just going to demonstrate some moves for me and I would just sit over here on the side and watch." I said hoping she would reconsider.

"Experience is the best way to learn. The bruises heal fairly quickly." She smiled at me. "And the whole Catholic School girl outfit and heels just does not cut it for falling on the mats." Okay her salesmanship needed work as bruising and falling were also not something I was particularly looking forward to. But her stone cold stare with the smile was not taking any excuses I might make so I ran off to the locker room and quickly changed.

I have to admit the clothes were surprisingly comfortable but I still had no idea what to do with the white belt she gave me. In the end I looped it twice around my waist and tied it off. Walking barefoot I headed back to the mats and the potential beating I was about to receive.

"Bow before you step onto the mats." She said in a tone allowed for no defiance so I did then hesitantly entered the mats and stood in front of her trying not to seem either nervous or too casual.

"Now stand up straight and bow to me." She explained and as I did she bowed the same.

"Assume a fighting stance." She immediately stood across from me and let her right leg slide back and to the side. Her hands came up like a boxer near her cheeks to guard her face.

I tried to mimic the pose but this was my first time. "Widen your stance." She said which meant nothing to me. "Bring your left leg a little more forward and your right leg a little further out to the side. And do not put your thumbs inside your fist or the first time you punch someone you will break your own one in the process." She showed me the correct way to make a fist and I copied it. When I had the pose down to her satisfaction she moved from standing across from me to right next to me in the same pose as well.

"Okay we are going to begin with the Single Knife Hand Strike." She said demonstrating what I would have called a horizontal karate chop to the neck. She did it twice more and then directed me to do it as well. I guess it beat waxing cars and painting fences as a way to learn this type of stuff though then Murphy had to do her own chores.

As I was practicing with both the left and right hands alternately she turned to the real subject. "Okay, tell me everything about this case you have not shared with me yet." She said, thankfully in a tone that did not make me want to think I was going to get my own head ripped off.

For the next twenty minutes I did that as she added three kicks and two more hand strikes to my repertoire. I was nowhere near as graceful, but after a while I could feel my body respond and these actions become more natural. I could also tell that I was still seriously tired and a bit clumsy because of this but Murphy did not say anything.

I told her about everything relevant that had happened, especially Mr. Goldman's revelations about the Katz Manuscript and what I had learned from Heinrich about the U-505 and Ernst Schertel. I even told her about my date tonight, though this was not terribly important to the case. She asked an occasional question or two for clarification but otherwise restricted her comments to improving the new skills she was teaching me.

"Alright Molly that is enough" She said at 3:45 exactly. "You did well." She nodded in satisfaction.

"Thanks." I said. "I was just starting to feel it."

"Not the martial arts." She corrected. "Your forms looked like a wounded gooney bird in labor." She laughed crushing my self opinion. "But on the case you did a lot more than I would have thought anyone was capable of. I'm not thrilled with some of your decisions, but I have to admit you did them in good faith. Hell you even did better than Harry on more than a few of the cases I have called him in on."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Take a shower."

"No I mean about the case."

"I'm going to go out and arrest Rabbi Rothstein for murder." She said plainly without emotion.

I wanted to protest that he did not deserve it, but the law, just like the White Council's law, only took extenuating circumstances so far. She may not personally care if some skinheads were killed, but her job required her to stop the one doing the killing and that is exactly what she was going to do. Carlos was the same way in seeing to his duty as well. They were enforcers of laws who had a job to do and emotion only went so far.

"Can I ask one favor?" I asked.

"No I can't bring you out on the arrest." She said thinking she had understood my motivation.

"No not that." I had already dismissed that idea myself anyway. "When you have him can we let Mr. Hummel speak with him? It is sort of as a last request for the dying?"

"That is a little irregular but providing the rabbi comes along quietly I will try to set something up for tomorrow, ok?"

"That would be great."

"Go get ready for your hot date." She smiled at me without any sense of jealousy.

"Okay but call me tonight and let me know what Ishmael had to say for himself." I said.

"I will."

I drove back home to pick up some clothes then to Harry's to catch a quick cold shower and get ready for my date. I could chalk up my first successful assistance for the police. Well that just left helping Ms. Brown find her son and of course looking for a missing watch which actually what I was being paid for. Well, at least I could have a night off to relax and flirt for once without someone trying to kill me.


	15. Chapter 15

**Axis and Allies**

**_Wednesday Evening _**

**_Chapter 15_**

Five minutes earlier than expected there was a rapping on Harry's door that seemed a bit tentative or even hesitant to me. Granted having a big steel door, rather than one made of wood, on the apartment was probably a little fortress-like and intimidating to some, but heaven knows its added protection had kept Harry alive on more than one occasion. It did not quite still sit correctly in the frame anymore, another situation due to an unwanted group of undead visitors, but with a little extra effort it could be opened and closed without too much trouble.

"I'm just finishing up my makeup I will be right with you." I yelled to the door. Thankfully I was actually ready, in fact I had been for a half hour already, but of course we girls can't let a guy think we sit around waiting on their beck and call whenever they decided to show up; not when instead we can have them waiting on us! After counting out one hundred and eighty seconds, three minutes seeming to be the right amount of time for issues in a budding romance, I went to the door and opened it to find Curtis standing there with a smile on his handsome face and a single white rose in his hand that he handed to me.

"Uuummm, so you understand, I do not do a lot of dating so I hope the rose is not seen as too forward." He said clumsily as I looked at it and then back to him.

What the hell? He looks like this and he does not date much? Just how stupid were college girls anyway? "No not at all." I said sniffing it. "It is very lovely. Thank you." I said as he moved aside and let me step out of the apartment, then close and lock the door behind me. We then walked up the stairs toward the parked cars in the street.

"Molly before we go out I have to tell you something so you have a chance to back out right now." He said with more of his resigned awkwardness. I of course prepared myself for any possibility. He was obviously not married, though he could be subject to an arranged marriage. Perhaps he wanted to tell me that he kept his dead stuffed cat in the car because he could not part with burying little Fuzzy after ten years. Odds are though he was going to tell me he was gay and just wanted me as a friend. Oh well might as well get this over with and can at least enjoy a nice dinner.

"Go ahead Curtis, you can tell me whatever." I know it seems odd but I was really praying for the whole dead cat thing. I could bury the dead cat. The gay thing was probably beyond my ability to change in any way I might deem positive toward dating.

"Please listen to what I have to say." He said now obviously completely embarrassed by what was about to come next.

"Go on." Yep it was not going to be the dead cat. Oh well friends are not bad a second option.

"I'm a wizard." He said literally making me stumble in my heels as I came to a complete stop.

"You're a what?" I said making sure my ears were not playing tricks on me or something. Is this how others felt when I said these words? If so I needed to find a way of easing into this better in the future.

"I know what you are thinking." He said looking away from me and down at the ground in embarrassment. "Either I am a nut job or some New Age cult wacko." Yep those are what I was called when I told a few people I was a wizard too.

"Look I understand if you do not want to go out with me now." He said stepping a little further away. "I had to tell you before things got too far because I found myself liking you and I did not want either of us to get hurt later when you finally found out." He said.

I have to admit I was dumbfounded and was scrambling for something to say for a statement I actually had never considered this as one of my possibilities. "So you are not gay?" I asked.

"What?" Okay now we were both off balance. This was likely to go not where well. "No I am not gay." He said now embarrassed and perhaps a bit defensive.

"Can you show me some of your magic?" I asked because, well because that was always the request I got when I told people I was a wizard and I still did not know what else exactly to say in this situation. Talk about the shoe being on the other foot, hell it was not even my leg!

He looked askew at me and I smiled in encouragement and open-mindedness, hoping he was reassured and did not think I was mocking him. He really could not have had a more sympathetic audience. He looked around the ground quickly and found some discarded newspaper and held it in one hand while with his other he pointed his finger at it. I could see his eyes close as he was straining to concentrate and could feel the magic being pulled to him as he prepared the spell.

"Feuer!" He commanded and a burst of fire the size of a match flame flew from his outstretched fingertip toward the paper covering a distance of nearly two feet before striking and causing the paper to burst into flame. He let me look at his handiwork for a second to prove he had done it and then dropped the paper to the ground and stomped it out.

He turned to me looking a little exhausted by this ordeal. "See I did not lie to you Molly, whatever you might thing about me now." He said looking for some sort of acknowledgement.

I do not know what came over me but the fact that he had done this, and more importantly that his flame had been weaker even than mine, made me smile. It was not that I felt I was in competition with him, only that it was cool to finally find another wizard with possibly even less skill than I have. Unfortunately he took the smile the wrong way and turned to leave muttering a soft "Sorry I will go" statement almost under his breath.

"No Curtis don't leave. I have something to show you too." I said with odd tone of happiness in my voice that came from not feeling awkward around someone for the first time since becoming Harry's apprentice. He turned to look at me but I had my hand pointed at the half of the newspaper still not burnt and drew the magic into me. I did not go for full strength so not to overtax myself, but focused on a flicker just slightly bigger than his had been. It was petty I know by yes, size does matter to a girl sometimes.

"Feugo!" I said as Harry had trained me and the flame like a bic lighter opened to full leapt from my hand and set the newspaper alight one more time. He looked back at me in shock, down once more to the burning paper, and then back up to see me smiling warmly in total understanding.

"How?" He said confused.

"Hey I'm a wizard." I said with an open and honest smile and then pointed to the burning paper. "Do you mind?" I asked and he stepped on it for me. I could have done it myself but these shoes were new and they were open toed so I really did not want to mess them up with paper ash or burn myself. Once the fire was snuffed out I smiled sweetly at him. "Now where are you taking me for our date?'

He nearly stumbled as he rushed back next to me and led me to his car. It turned out to be a 1940s Packard, the age I guessed from the all black steel body and the make from the name 'Packard' advertised on the big back trunk. It was in fairly remarkable condition for its age showing me that being a wizard did not mean one could not drive in style. It just merely needed to be a well aged style in our case. I wondered how many bags of diamonds it would cost me to buy a similarly well aged Rolls Royce?

We drove to the restaurant that was only a few blocks away from Harry's house, he even got out and opened the car door for me before offering me his arm and leading me to the dining facility. It was not a fancy, call three weeks ahead for a reservation, type place but still Curtis was required to call ahead that day to make reservations and there were also silk tablecloths and candles on each table. "Well he may not date often, but he certainly makes up in quality what he lacks in quantity." I thought happily to myself and quite thrilled to be one of the few.

The entire restaurant was set up for two person tables as this was obviously a place that catered to quiet romantic dining rather than families with screaming kids. Two tables had been placed together for what was obviously a blind double date by the looks of death one girl was aiming at her friend for being set up with a guy not to her liking. She then noticed Curtis and her eyes widened in jealousy making me smile all the more though he, like most guys I found, was oblivious to this type of attention when aimed his way.

One other table had a guy sitting alone eating, either a food critic or someone who had been stood up yet decided to have a meal anyway I guess. I am not too keen on the whole white guy with the Rastafarian hair as it was just not something I found all that appealing so maybe his date had come to her senses and decided she would stay home tonight after all also. Personally I did not care because I knew I looked great and Curtis made the perfect accessory for my arm on a night out on the town.

I immediately noted that there were way too many pieces of silverware on my side of the table. I could handle a spoon, knife and two forks, but this was more than double that number. Thankfully Curtis was prepared and offered to order for both of us if I told him anything I was allergic to or was not particularly fond of. That of course was a great solution to the problem for I could follow his lead on what implement went with what course and also enjoy having a man take charge to pamper me.

"So Curtis tell me about yourself." I said as we had our various courses served to us. "All I know is that you work in a museum and that you are a wizard." I said the last in a quiet conspirator-like voice with an over dramatic smile to let him know I was okay with it of course. Some wizards can be so sensitive.

"Wow I really am terrible at this small talk stuff." He said with his own awkward smile. "Okay I am a college student as I told you who works now in a museum." He began. "I think I told you that I love history and it really is just the center of my life…well except for… you know." He made an exaggerated hand movement like he was casting a spell.

"What about your parents, or any brothers and sisters." I asked. "Are any of them into history or…" I tried to mimic his hand gesture which made him smile at the silliness of it.

"I'm an only child unfortunately." He said though not overly depressed by this. "I get my love of history from my father who followed the family tradition of becoming a doctor. He was not pleased that I chose a different course. And I get the other skills from my mother's side of the family which I have been told is fairly common?" He asked.

"Yes that is how it is in my family as well." I said. The news made him smile in relief.

"My mother is the only skilled practitioner I have ever met." He admitted. "Because of that I never know if what she is telling me about magic is actually true or simply her way of controlling what I do."

Boy did I understand THAT feeling. Half of the time when Harry told me to do something magical I caught myself wondering if this were some type of scheme to embarrass me instead of teach me. For example, I never understood why Harry required me to practice shield training by having my brothers and sisters attack me with snowballs. It was comforting to know I was not the only one with these kinds of doubts.

"Hey, I'd love to swap stories and try to see if we have been told the same skinny." I offered.

"That is so cool." He smiled and seemed to perk up. "I have to ask first, did you get the 'with great power comes great responsibility' speech?" He asked right off the bat.

"Who are you Peter Parker?" I laughed and he immediately joined in. "The closest I ever get to that is when Harry tells me remember that magic has repercussions."

That sort of caught him up short. "I thought you said you got your powers from your mother."

"I do." I replied. "Harry is my Mas… my instructor." I said catching myself. No need to admit to only being an apprentice just yet. Okay part of that I will admit was for my personal ego, but on the other hand if he had been practicing for years and I outdid his fire as just an apprentice then he might get upset. We all know how fragile the male ego can be.

"Um…are you and Harry close?" He asked.

"Yes." I said. "Oh wait not close like _that_. He is just my teacher so we can talk about anything."

He seemed to relax at this obviously content knowing there was not some powerful and potentially jealous wizard whose territory he was messing in. I guess I could understand that.

At that point a gypsy looking violin player came to our table and began to play for us. Curtis slipped him a twenty I noticed as he reached out to take my hand that was sitting on the table. This was both incredibly sweet and incredibly embarrassing as wherever the gypsy walked many of the eyes of other patrons seemed to follow. One particularly old and obviously wealthy lady who was either sitting with her grandson or had hired a date one third her age for the night smiled directly at me, looked at Curtis, who was again oblivious to this female evaluation, and then back at me. Silently she mouthed the words "He is a keeper sweetie!"

Great, now I'm getting dating advice from someone who looks like they were a school chum with Ancient Mai! I turned away from her and was going to speak to Curtis over the playing of the violin but found him also seemingly distracted.

From what I could sense he seemed to be debating about another question. It was on the tip of his tongue at least twice but then he pulled back as if unsure what to say. Finally I just asked him. "Come on Spiderman you already told me your secret identity, what else could you have that is too embarrassing to share between wizard colleagues?" I said. I was happy to see my joke made him smile and with a deep sigh he closed his eyes and launched into what I assume he had been thinking of.

"Did Harry ever tell you that there could be some bad complications if you have sex?" He asked me as red blossomed across his cheeks. Of course just as he asked the question the violin player chose to stop playing so in the absence of this music Curtis's voice rang out quite clearly around the room. Yeah, gotta love those little quiet, romantic restaurants.

Okay, there were more embarrassing questions I guess I could get asked after all. So now everyone who had not been looking at the gypsy, to include the waiters, the hostess, and I am pretty certain even the hatcheck girl in the next room, were all looking at our table and especially at me. Fair is fair I guess since I had already asked him if he were gay. Stupid karma!

"Um, yes he did." I answered realizing I had to keep this rather vague since discussing the effects of sex on magic probably would be a dinner conversation everyone would remember.

"I'm sorry." He said hoping everyone would stop looking at us. "It's just I never…you know…and I always thought this was a lie my mother used to keep me in line. She said I have very specific family responsibilities to uphold and so never approved of me dating anyone."

"You're a vir…a Virginian?" I said noting everyone would not stop staring at us but he nodded slightly at my actual question. "Yes I understand how those old Southern families can be strict on such fraternizations. I'm from Virginia too." I said making him smile and putting us on the same level of embarrassment with each other.

I wanted to scream 'Okay people go back to you dinners and leave the two out-of-staters alone already' but of course I did not. Thankfully the gypsy chose that moment to begin to play another soft romantic song for us. I thought he had considered a tango, the dance of love, but probably catching on to what we were really saying chose something lighter, carefree, and airy. And that only lasted until there was a huge crash of falling pans and shattering dishes that emanated from the kitchen and drew everyone's attention away from Curtis and me.

I felt Curtis's hand tense as he drew away from mine as the familiar feeling of wrongness swept into the restaurant just seconds before the swinging door to the kitchen was blown from its hinges by a powerful blow that sent it crashing into the wall. Jonathan Rothstein, well more accurately the golem that looked like Jonathan Rothstein, stepped into the room heading in our direction.

"Oh crap!" I said pushing my chair back and standing up. Dammit this was just not fair. The dress and heels I was wearing were not cheap, and while they were not new exactly, I still had only worn them once before. I had also spent more than an hour doing my hair, my nails, and my makeup and now I was face with a mud monster. I mean even if I won against it, which the likely wizard Emperor Rudolf II had been unable to, I was pretty certain I was not going to look nearly as good at the end of the encounter. Why do the perky high school wizard apprentices get the monsters made from mud? Who set these sexist rules up? I wondered this last as I slipped out of my shoes so that I would not break my neck battling in heels.

For his part Curtis had stood up too, likely taking his cues from me and backed slightly away but did not run as the creature seemed to be scanning the room looking for its target. "Molly are you _sure_ your friend Harry is not the jealous kind?"

"It's a golem." I told him as others around the room began to panic and head for the door. Of course there were also people coming in who had not seen the golem yet so this created a bottle neck at the doorway meaning no one was likely to escape. "It's made of mud so…"

"Mud…got it." Curtis said and pointed his hand at it. "Feuer!" He commanded and a slightly larger burst of flame sped from his hand and struck the creature in the middle of the chest. Thankfully almost everyone's attention was on getting out the door so the pyrotechnics went pretty much unnoticed. Well we would not have to explain it, providing we actually lived to talk about this all afterwards.

If the flame itself was not particularly impressive compared to what I had seen Harry call down, its effect was even less so. It dried out a patch about the size of a basketball in the middle of the creature's chest and about an inch deep or so which flaked off as dust to settle on the ground at the golem's feet. If it were uncertain about its target before the golem no longer was as its eyes locked onto Curtis. I realized then it must have some sort of 'defend yourself' clause written in as part of the animation process.

From halfway across the room it grabbed and flung a chair directly at Curtis. I'd have yelled 'duck' but this was a nice place and the chairs were pretty big. Instead I called up another shield, right in front of him and the chair bounced off of it and then off to the side. All in all a good move except it reminded me I had not thought to recharge the shield bracelet so I was now down to just one more charge of Harry's and one lesser one of my own. Not very bright Molly, I thought to myself as I tried to come up with a defense.

Two staccato shots rang out from behind me making two little pings of dirt as the bullets passed right through the golem. Unless the shooter was packing an actual cannon this method of attack was not going to be particularly successful. I turned expecting to see a police officer but of course instead my bad night became even worse.

As if some part of a divine comedy, the Rastafarian I had earlier observed at the other table was now standing up and holding a smoking Lugar that had just fired the shots. He ripped the wig from his head showing nothing but bare skin beneath and growled as the golem kept coming in our direction.

Okay I admit I had not noticed the Rastafarian was one of the skinheads when I walked in. Really, who in their right mind picks a two foot long dreadlock wig to wear as a disguise? Obviously that would be the Nazi I was now facing, and in fairness sake it had been effective, but come on. I was supposed to notice this when I enter and was standing next to a hunk?

Curtis at this time, bless him, realizing escape was not an option, fired off a second flame bolt and struck the golem right next to the first with equally unimpressive results. I searched my mind for some other attack that might be effective but nothing came immediately to mind. And of course there was the skinhead to complicate my life even further.

"Well bitch if the bullets don't work on your pet, maybe they will work better on you!" He said turning the gun toward me and pulling back on the trigger.

On instinct knowing it had worked before I fired off another shield, my own this time, willing it to fill the barrel. The trigger clicked off but the weapon's hammer never fell forward as it was pushing against an invisible magic shield. Not as cool as making the gun explode but damn it was effective. The skinhead thought so too and after trying two more times to make it fire he tossed it away in an attempt to try to make for the door himself.

I turned back to Curtis just in time to see him leap onto a table and smash a heavy wooden chair on the golem's head. All in all it was a pretty impressive and heroic thing to do. Had the golem been human or one of the average creatures from the Nevernever he probably would have laid it out unconscious. But golems do not have consciousness. And much bigger and heavier trees fall onto the ground every day and the ground does not really suffer for it. So other than breaking the chair to bits and scraping away maybe a handful of dirt this attack was equally useless as well. I suddenly knew how hopeless the soldiers of Prague had felt when menaced by a similar creature centuries ago. And of course Mr. Goldman had not offered any solution to beating it. Oh well time to improvise I guess.

I could try to dispel it, but I knew that was not going to work in this case. I could sense the strength and harmony of the magic created from chanting used in the golem's creation and there was no way the simple dispel I knew would do any better than Curtis's flame burst had. Likewise, my own fire spell was not nearly capable of bringing such a creature down. If I could find some way to enhance my magic then I might stand a chance. Unfortunately I did not think I would be able to convince the creature to stand still long enough for me to douse it first with gasoline before setting it on fire to dry it out.

The golem knocked the table out from under Curtis sending him sprawling to the floor with a rather solid and painful sounding landing. He was obviously stunned and while his natural reactions were telling him to get up and get away from the creature he was way too slow in recovering. The golem reached down with one of his hands and grabbed Curtis by the neck, lifting him easily off the ground.

"A little help here?" He asked no one in particular as his feet dangled two feet from the ground. It looked funny almost because Curtis was bigger than Jonathan Rothstein had been in life so his golem lookalike still looked smaller and weaker by comparison. Of course since it had been made from solid Earth its body shape was not particularly reflective of its actual strength.

"On my way!" I said hoping to draw the creature's attention but it was focused instead on Curtis. When in doubt though go for the old reliable Harry always said.

"Fire on the count of three aimed for its wrist!" I said as I stood within arms' reach but outside it periphery line of sight. I called up the magic within me for the spell.

"One, two, three!" I screamed followed immediately by "Feugo!" Instead of sending the ball flying at a distance I reached up and placed my palm over the golem's wrist that was holding Curtis up. I was happy to note he followed orders and did as I directed calling 'Feuer' and locking his palm on the same wrist too as he spell was released.

While neither of us could cast a whole lot of magic, the fact that we had combined our powers and focused on one of the smallest diameter parts of the creature's body was enough to give us success. Both our spells launched, burning us as well with first degree burns to our palms in the process, but instantly drying out this area on the creature from two opposing directions. This now dried mud could not even hold up the creature's hand, much less the hundred and eight pound Curtis. With a shower of dust my date fell free to land on his feet, the remaining parts of the golem's hand still grasping at his neck but no longer animated.

The golem that was Jonathan Rothstein howled in inarticulate speech and swung a backhand toward the pair of us. I tried to move quick enough to aim my shield bracelet between us but I was too slow. The blow struck both Curtis and I sending us flying ten feet or more across the room to land on someone else's romantic dinner. In the back of my mind I was just happy they had not ordered the kabobs or the crème brulle.

On the bright side when we landed we also upturned these tables placing them between us and the golem and removing us from his line of sight. From the increase in screams coming from the door seemed to indicate to me that the golem was heading for the others and not toward us. While that gave me an extra second to get my feet under me, and notice that like I had predicted the golem had stained my dress with mud on one side and what I assumed was A-1 sauce on the other! Alright, now I was really pissed!

"Molly you are certainly an interesting date." Curtis said groaning and trying to find his feet. He had taken the greater part of the blow so I understood the slow response. "And musical too." He said. "Before it was violin music and now I am hearing bells!" Well at least his sense of humor was still intact. I was satisfied to note his clothes were also ruined like mine.

Then inspiration hit me. Harry had told me that is how it is with lots of wizards. You focus your mind on solving a problem one way, but in truth something in your subconscious realizes a better solution and presto, to use a magical term, you have a new workable plan. Of course Harry also mentioned that this is also likely how you get into the Merlin Awards, but I was going to try really hard not to think about that as I went from recklessly bold to downright heedlessly stupid without stopping to consider.

I looked franticly around the room but could not find what I was looking for. "Where is the gypsy violin player?" I yelled at Curtis to get his attention.

He looked at me for a moment and then pointed toward the doorway where the flash of the burgundy red sash he had been wearing escaped through the door. "Dammit did you see if he had his violin?"

"No he dropped it by our table." Curtis replied.

"Come on then!" I moved back through the overturned furniture than had up until five minutes ago been one of Chicago's finest date restaurants. I only hoped for their sake there had not been a food critic from the Chicago Tribune preparing his review when all this began.

A ghastly gurgle drew my attention away from my course making me bump into an overturned chair and nearly fall to the ground if it had not been for a quick save by Curtis reaching out to steady me. The former Rastafarian skinhead, is that an oxymoron, was being suspended off the floor as Curtis had been by the golem's one good hand and now the other was being forced into his face. Blood had no chance to seep out as more and more dirt was pushed into the facial cavities and likely down the throat and into the lungs. The Nazi's eyes bugged out and he expired in a not particularly slow or painless mode. Ishmael's revenge had struck again.

"Here it is." Curtain said handing me the violin and the bow the gypsy had discarded in his haste; thankfully for the rest of us. "I hope you can still use it." He said.

I looked closer and noted one of the strings had come loose and flapped freely. Hell, for what I had planned that might even help. I thought to myself. "Give me the hand!" I order Curtis pointing to where the golem's hand was still grasping on his neck.

"Christ!" He said obviously noticing it was still on him for the first time. In fairness to him he did have a rather large bump forming up on his head so that might have distracted him. He knocked it off himself and it landed at his feet as he kicked it over to me.

I reached down and ripped one of the fingers off the hand, feeling that it felt more like a warm mud pie than the flesh it had been molded to imitate. That was good because mud pie I could deal with; rotting flesh feelings, really not so much.

"Tell me you are not going to try and pull a Young Frankenstein on our friend over there." He said drawing my attention back to the golem who had dropped the corpse to the ground and was now using a small seafood fork, I recognized it from Curtis's earlier explanation, to carve the same numbers again on the victim's left arm.

"No I do not want to capture it." I said realizing the scene from the movie he was talking about. I love Peter Boyle's _Putting on the Ritz_ performance. "I want to kill it!"

"With a violin?" Curtis asked skeptically.

"Watch and learn Grasshopper!" I said using Harry's pet name for me. I have to admit it was cool to be the one in charge for once. Now as long as I do not screw this up and become a perky _dead_ high school wizard apprentice everything will be good.

Thaumaturgy is a type of magic based upon the principle that if you affect something small you can increase the effect on something larger. For those not associated with the wizard arts the most famous example of this is the voodoo doll. Stick a pin in the doll and the person the doll represents feels the pain as well. All this requires is a part of the being you wish to affect, usually hair or nail clippings do, and a magical circle to focus the spell - which I had forgotten until this exact time. See it's little details like this that is what separates the apprentice from the master wizard.

I looked around. "Grab me a couple salt shakers." I said to Curtis and he immediately did so, bringing one pepper along as well by mistake. No problem I dropped that in my pocket and began unscrewing the salt shakers and pouring their contents around the two of us to create an ad hoc circle. Yeah I could have done it just around myself but hey we were on a date so it seemed the right thing to do.

Once the circle was completed I pricked my finger and allowed a drop of blood to strike the salt and immediately a circle of magical protection appeared around us.

"Wow, that is so cool!" Curtis said in admiration.

"When the devil finished Johnny said 'Well you're pretty good ol' son. But sit down in that chair, right there, and let me show you how it's done.'" I said in mocking as I raised the violin to my chin and began to run the bow rapidly across the remaining three strings.

Did I happen to mention I had never had a violin lesson in my entire life? The music, if it could dare to be called that, rested somewhere between screeching tires and a dying cat. But this was the exact effect that I was looking for with my thaumaturgy.

Mr. Goldman had said that a golem is created through holy chanting imbuing it with life by the power and faith of its creators. These chants must be precise for the spell to work, just as the pronunciation of a binding spell must use the exact inflection of a being's real name to bind it to the wizard's will and command.

By my playing the violin and its disharmony this music rolled along into the golem's finger this created disharmony in the animation of the finger. It began to dissolve right before my eyes. And over across the room the golem's body began to do it as well.

It turned to look at me and stood up in rage, leaving its carvings on the body alone and it charged right at us. I noted Curtis tense up for the coming impact and start to move. "Stay in the circle!" I ordered and he looked down moving away from the edge just as the golem's body slammed into the wall of force that protected us.

Between that impact and my continued playing both the finger and the creature's body disintegrated as a pile of dust like dirt all around us, but none entered the circle. Curtis looked from it and then back to me. "Holy cow Molly you did it!" He said.

I dropped the violin and said to him with a smile at my handiwork. "Devil just come on back if you ever want to try again. I told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been."


	16. Chapter 16

**Axis and Allies**

**_Wednesday Evening – Thursday Morning _**

**_Chapter 16_**

"Really Murphy I was just here on a date." I said in response to her obvious suspicion written all over her face as she took me aside to question me. "I did not even pick this place, my date did." I know the excuse sounded lame but it was true. Curtis had picked it and it was just rotten chance that so had the skinhead in his attempt to hide out and catch a meal. That or he had tailed me and came in while we were finding someplace to park. I already knew the other one had followed me to the museum so I had to assume they had made Harry's apartment as my place of residence and were keeping it under surveillance. Well there was only one of them left and if he had any smarts he would be hightailing it out of town by now. And if not I passed along my theory to Karrin who considered it valid enough to dispatch a unit to go check out if there was anyone just hanging around.

"Kid your luck at being at the wrong place at the wrong time makes me wonder if maybe I have been too hard on Harry in thinking he was holding out on me in the past." She said. "We both know the effect that you have on electronics, so I wonder if your type is not also instilled with an overabundance of poor circumstances."

I tried to defend against that notion myself but it was indeed true that both Harry and I had indeed crossed paths with a far greater number of not nice beings and less than comfortable events than the law of averages should allow for. Maybe there was actually something to what she was suggesting and worth asking Harry about. But I was still not going to take that without a response of some kind.

"Yeah that may be so Murphy." I said with a smile. "But check him out!" I said pointing at Curtis who was giving his statement to another of the Special Investigations officers. "I mean he is hot!"

Murphy looked at Curtis and raised one eye then looked back at me. "A little too young and Brad Pitt like for my taste but I will grant you I would not tell him no if he wanted to wear a French maid's costume for me and clean my apartment." She said with a wicked conspiratorial smile.

"Murphy!" I said somewhere between total embarrassed shock and laughing outrageously at the visual image her words had placed in my mind. The image won out and I nearly doubled over in laughter as again the stress from the earlier events now left my body.

I suddenly felt so woozy from tapping out my reserves of magic and having three nights in a row now spent without a decent rest. Thankfully this warzone have been a rather fine upstanding restaurant until an hour ago, there were more than a few chairs immediately available for my needs. I grabbed one and slumped down in total exhaustion as Murphy grabbed another and sat across from me.

"I guess after three times now you pretty much know the procedure so I do not have to step you through it?" She joked with me.

"Yeah, lucky for me." I said sarcastically. "This is one skill set I could do without." But understanding she had a job to do I explained all that had happened since I had left her at the gym this afternoon. Thankfully there was not a whole lot to explain in going home and getting ready for a date. The fact that the physical evidence completely backed up my account of these events she was not required to write down many details when the crime scene photographer, someone else who was getting to know my face far too well for my taste, snapped off a couple rolls of film. Well the insurance company would probably want to see them.

"So it looks like you know how to defeat these golem things now?" She asked seeing the circular pile of dirt from the one that had tried to kill me. Since it was dead and I was alive that was a simple conclusion to draw on the face of the facts present.

"Sort of." I said. "But that particular method requires combat amputation on one of the golem's body parts which is not all that easy to accomplish." I explained. "Then I need to build a protective circle and last play a violin really poorly. That last one is really the easiest part of the whole process I found." I said being honest.

"So not something you can just do at the drop of a hat with one of these things chasing you?" She asked. "It takes a little time to implement which you were lucky to have since its real target appears to have been the skinhead." She suggested.

"Something like that." I said not wanting to explain how thaumaturgy spells were also incredibly draining to cast as rapidly as I had. Normally a wizard prepared and gathered their strength through meditation or some other form of relaxation and harmonizing with magic before attempting a spell of this type. The golem though had not allowed me this luxury of course so I had drawn off my personal reserves and a lot of adrenaline and was now paying a pretty hard price physically for that. But hey on the bright side I was alive and able to complain so all in all not a bad situation overall.

"Actually on the bright side, as long as you keep Ishmael away from his dirt and prevent him from chanting you should have no more problems with golems anyway." I said explained how prevention was a much better answer to this problem than another actual battle would be.

"Yeah that would be good if we had actually taken Rabbi Rothstein into custody." She replied not looking terribly pleased to have to tell me this. Needless to say after almost being killed by his creation I was not thrilled by this news either.

"You did not get him?" I asked stunned. "He's a ninety something year old guy and you missed him? Are you saying he is out on the run hiding from Chicago's finest?"

"Yeah those were pretty much my exact words to the officers after we did our search of the Rothstein house." Karrin answered. "The family would not talk to us except to say he was not in the home. They allowed our search, comparing us to Nazis trying to find Jews by the way, and smiling in satisfaction when we turned up empty handed. I had nothing to hold them on except a threat of obstructing justice which would get bounced out of court anyhow and merely get my ass in deeper hot water with the city."

"So then there is still a chance for more golems to go hunting tomorrow night after all." I reasoned from this news.

"Yeah, that is what I thought too which is why I asked you how effective this spell you cast would be again at stopping the next one."

"I supposed by sending your officer over to check out around Harry's apartment that you did not find that last skinhead either?" I asked looking over and seeing Curtis notice my exhaustion and offer me a smile of encouragement. While it did not restore my depleted magic it certainly made me feel better emotionally for the moment.

"Not yet, but we have a full APB out for him." She said. "He will not be able to hide for long if he is still in the city. If he has left then the golem will be someone else's problem when he catches up to the guy."

"That is unless the guy is hiding wearing an afro or a Mohawk wig!" I said under my breath but still loud enough for Karrin to hear. She smiled and told me to get out of here because I looked exhausted. "You really did Harry proud Molly." She said as I stood up, wobbly, but stood up anyway. She signaled to her partner to release Curtis as well and we turned to leave together.

We passed right by the dead Nazi and I noticed the uncompleted letters and numbers again on his left arm. "I wish I knew what those meant." I said to Curtis pointing to the bloody injuries.

"It looks like part of a concentration camp number." He said. I stopped and looked at him in surprise and admiration that he made this connection so easily. "Hey I'm a history student remember. Things like this are fairly notable don't you think? That is the only letter number combination printed on a left arm that I am familiar with. In Terminator they used barcode scanners." Okay I had reached the too much trivia limit for my tired brain so I merely smiled and nodded at this.

As for his analysis though I had to agree he was probably right. I bet if I had asked Mr. Goldman what letters and number on a left arm meant he would have come up with the same answer just as quickly. Well maybe I should history a little more and a little harder in the future.

We walked back outside past the police tape line and away perpendicular from the first wave of reporters who were conducting interviews with the gypsy violinist about all that had occurred. I hoped he was taking personal credit for putting the creature down. I would support his story completely or for that matter whatever story he told did not contain a blonde perky high school apprentice wizard.

I realized I was getting to the point that trying to explain this all to Harry when he returned was going to get a lot more complicated than just saying "Hey this woman thought I was you and guess what happened next." Yeah that really was not going to be a conversation I was looking forward to having. I definitely needed to solve these cases so he could not complain about that at least. I yawned heavily as Curtis stared at me and knew there was no way I was looking into any of this before tomorrow at the earliest.

"You look exhausted." He said with a smile of pride. "Well let me drop you off back at your apartment."

The ride back had us chatting even more than the ride over; though in truth it was mostly him. I guess battling for your life next to someone, especially someone hot, makes you willing to open up more to them. It was either that or he was still on his adrenaline high. Curtis could not stop talking about what happened, mostly I figured because he was nowhere near as tired as I was at the moment.

"You really were incredible back there tonight." Curtis said.

"Thanks." I said. "You did great yourself." That was not completely untrue and hey I already mentioned stroking a male ego was required at times so it's okay to exaggerate a bit.

"Yeah I was an amateur compared to you." He said. "That last spell must have taken a lot out of you though." He looked at me relaxed in the seat beside him.

"It did, but even more is because I have not gotten a decent night's sleep for the last three nights so it is really starting to wear on me." I explained and he nodded.

"Trust me I understand." He said as he pulled up in front of Harry's apartment and stopped. He left the motor running but showed no signs of getting out of the car to open my door, nor wanting me to do the same. Do you know how hard it is _not_ to stare your date in the eyes when you get this whole awkward moment, smoldering romance thing going between you? Stupid wizard powers! This would be the perfect time for…

He leaned over with his eyes closed and pulled my lips to his. I felt the surge of magic when a wizard touches a wizard and I have to say it felt really good when focused through the lips! Okay, let me correct my earlier statement. Wizard powers are totally cool!

I felt myself slipping from really warm into almost uncomfortably hot as our kiss lingered making my body come awake in rather interesting ways. I must admit both of us were sort of fumbling as our hands found each other's and then separated for more searching.

He broke our kiss. "Stupid wizard powers!" He said making me laugh that I had shared this same thought though probably not for the same reasons. But hey the kissing was fun and I was willing to try for seconds.

At that exact moment the car door was yanked open on my side. "Molly get out of the car right this instant!" A voice ordered me that had me moving and speaking out of a few years of survival instinct before I even recognized it for who it was.

"Dad we were only talking." I said trying to straighten my muddy dress and then realizing in my sleep muddled brain that my dad does not have a Hispanic accent.

"Dad?" Carlos said looking at me with mixed emotions running across his face. "You better be damn happy I am not your dad Molly or you would be grounded until you were thirty for pulling a stunt like this." I may have initially thought dad, but Carlos's dialogue seem written completely by my mother not my father. Yeah dad would certainly have been more direct; most likely involving the use of his sword I think.

Curtis started to get out of the car on his side. "Mr. Carpenter let me explain." He said still only having heard my initial reference for Carlos and not the second exchange.

"Really boyo you need to get back into your car and go home for the night and call that a success." He said deadly serious as his hand strayed to his sword on his hip. The grey cloak he wore flapped dramatically behind him because this was of course the Windy City after all. My guardian must look like a modern D'artagnan.

Curtis's eyes seemed to flash as if he needed to defend me and a little bit of an intimidating smile came to his lips as well even as he noted Carlos's hand on his blade. This could not certainly lead to anywhere good so I called attention to myself. "Alright you two, stop measuring each other's swords already. Curtis this is the Warden Carlos Ramirez not my father. Carlos this is my date I told you about Curtis." I said making introductions. Neither seemed ready to back down nor did they take this opportunity to change course and play nice with each other.

"Like I said boy I think it is time for you to say goodnight." Carlos said a little less tense but with more certainty.

"Yes sir I think so too." Curtis said backing down finally. "Molly I will call you tomorrow if that is alright with Sir Galahad the Chaste over there." He said making Carlos fume a bit more.

"It will be alright." I said before Carlos could say anything else to complicate my life more.

"Okay I will see you both around." He winked at me to make Carlos mad then got into his car and drove away. This of course left me with one rather steaming, not currently in the looking hot way, Warden standing next to me with a glare of pure disapproval on his face.

"I suppose you want to talk to me about this?" I asked getting ready for the storm to come.

"No." Carlos said very, very softly throwing me off guard. "I would prefer to forget it." He said and without another word turned and walked to the door to Harry's apartment and unlocked the magical wards before doing the same with the door and stepped inside.

"Hey I thought I was the only one who knew Harry's wards." I said more out of surprise. Then again I should have caught onto the fact Carlos had to have them since he had maneuvered past all of them last night in his mission to place a blade at my neck. I really must be tired if I had not caught on to that detail until now.

"I know Harry's wards just like he knows mine." Carlos said without looking back as I followed him into the apartment, closed the door and placed the wards back into place. "As a Warden it is smart to have another of us able to come check out if you are okay, especially if no one has heard from you in a couple of days. With the on again off again war between wizards and vampires we need to keep track of each other's health."

That made sense. Harry would want someone with some power and combat skill to check up on him incase his apartment had been made into a trap. Carlos being the other North American primary Warden would certainly have been the right choice for the matter then. It also left me to wonder if Carlos had been told to check up on me by Harry too without him informing me it would be happening.

He sat straddled over his chair again as I sat, and then lay on the couch with my elbow over my eyes. God I could so go to sleep right now but Carlos obviously had things we needed to talk over. "Sorry Carlos I mean no disrespect but really have a headache coming on." I explained though ignored speaking about how it was caused by magical exhaustion. "What did you find out at Brown University?" I asked.

"Too much." He said far too seriously for his normal demeanor. I peeked out from under my arm at him and saw actual worry on his face.

"Okay what did I do wrong now?" I asked. Hell it has been another of those days where a magical battle took place in the City of Chicago so of course there were going to be some problems. The fact that I had been involved directly in it this time was also true so I guess I faced some sort of magical legal issue. But since golems were not actually alive but rather animated creatures there was no violation of White Council laws by destroying such a creature with magic. Well at least that was what I thought.

"I don't think you did anything, since so far the story you gave me last night seems to check out." He said and I was just about to say 'I told you so' when he continued. "But I think you have gotten yourself into something really big here Molly and until we know what is actually going on you have a real potential of screwing something pretty big up by accident as you stumble through it."

"So how exactly is this new?" I said exasperated. "Since I came into my powers the White Council and the Wardens have been on my ass saying I have been screwing things up and breaking their laws. Hell I have been sitting under a suspended death sentence which if I screw up my probation I assure you will seem like a rally big thing to me also." Okay I admit between being tired and frustrated but still that was not the best statement to have made under these conditions. But surprisingly Carlos is the one who was looking more sheepish at my outburst than I was.

"No it is not anything related to you." He said. "Except now you seem to have gotten embroiled in the midst of it which the White Council will not like when it comes to light." He paused for a second and then looked at me and nodded as if deciding in his mind he could trust me with whatever he was going to say. "I think you are in the middle of bringing back into the light one of the biggest mistakes the White Council and the Wardens have ever made. And the problem is either you may be correcting it or complicating it even further but I just don't know and can't trust asking anyone else on the Council for their opinion based upon the Doom on you and Harry."

That seemed to catch my attention. "Wait a minute I thought you just went to check up on that book and see if it had any additional spells or so forth in it." I said.

"I did." He replied. "But that book was just the key to a whole story that the surviving Wardens don't even talk about. Luckily I knew how to access our records so I was able to get more of the story, though there are still a lot of huge gaps in what we know." He said still shaken.

"You better start from the beginning then and work your way through." I suggested. "I am too tired to jump around a bunch of various subjects all at once." He nodded before beginning.

"I went to Brown University just like I had said I would." Carlos began. "The Hitler copy of Schertel's book called _Magic – History/Theory/Practice_ is actually owned by a wizard of the White Council who is also a tenured professor of theology. Because of this getting to see the rare volume was actually quite simple since I am one of the Wardens and merely said it was related to an investigation." He explained.

"A White Council wizard is a university professor?" I said shocked. I had never considered that the old men and women who had watched my trial might have normal lives as well. I guess it made sense, I just never had spent much time thinking about it.

"Actually that is not all that rare." Carlos said. "Such jobs provide the wizard an income, allows them to devote sufficient time to study when their assistants teach their classes, and allows the Council a good observation point to be on the lookout for others who demonstrate magical talent. Plus universities also tend to collect old and interesting objects like the book in question here." He said making a good case.

"Sorry for interrupting." I offered. "I guess I had just not thought about wizards having a normal life."

"Having Harry for your master I can understand why." He said with a lopsided grin before continuing.

"Anyway the copy at Brown is the exact same text within as all the others in that it focuses specifically on the conjuration and summoning aspects of magic." He explained. I knew from my studies that these two areas dealt a lot with the binding of spirits to the will of the wizard. At best this was a gray area of the Laws of Magic.

The Fourth Law of Magic, the same one I violated in fact, precludes a wizard from dominating or binding any creature to their will. A wizard is allowed to summon creatures from the Nevernever and bargain for information, providing these bargains do not violate any of the Laws of Magic themselves. Harry has said this is not magic to trifle with and that it will be a few years before I will be allowed to try if I even show any aptitude or interest for such things. He is cautious in this area as a former apprentice of his died when she tried to contain a loup-garou werewolf and failed. In truth, it is not an area of magic that held much interest for me, at least at the moment.

"Schertel speaks in his book mostly with working with the 'demonic or dark powers' in casting spells, and repeatedly states the belief that 'communion with the darkness' is the most important aspect of magical practice." Carlos continued. "Like I said though none of this is particularly new. The other copies all say the same and most of these the White Council has hidden away over time. The only reason this one is at Brown is because it was famous as belonging to Hitler. And in fact the only difference though is that this copy actually has personal annotations from Hitler himself, who had read and underlined key passages that seemed important to him."

"So Hitler was actually into the occult sciences as some of those History Channel programs suggest?" I asked seemingly confirming what Heinrich had told me earlier today.

"Very much so it seems." Carlos said. "In fact it was because of this that I went to go check the Warden records to see if he was a wizard himself." He replied. "Thankfully it turns out he was not. He did, however, organize a group of wizards under Schertel to serve him and called them…"

"The Red Shirts, yes I know." I said trying to get him to move on to the parts I did not know already before I passed out.

"What do you mean you know?" He asked. "I just found this out myself today. This is one of the Wardens' greatest secrets and we do not tell it to apprentices."

"Yeah well there are more than a few people here in Chicago who knew about them before I found out about them today. I do not think your secret is all that unknown in the general population as you hope it is." I said. "Finish your story and I will tell you how I spent my day." He looked at me a little annoyed for giving orders but continued as directed. I so love a man who does as requested without too much fuss."

"Anyway I looked up the records on Schertel and his Red Shirts and most of it is background on who they were and how they were assisting Hitler." He said. "At the beginning they would attend rallies and fire up the crowds by using sensitive magic just like you are capable of." He told me. "This seems to make a strong confirmation of your story of what happened outside the Holocaust museum but instead of using anger and fear like you encountered, back then the Red Shirts at the rallies would project power and pride to make the citizens flock to Hitler's banner."

"So Hitler's famous charisma…"

"Yes it was all because of magic." Carlos completed.

"Like I said last night, the White Council does not forbid wizards from getting involved in politics but it is usually frowned upon." Carlos continued. "Of course Merlin was helping out England during the war, which is his home, first by demonstrating the concept of radar against which he had developed from a bat's senses and then helping their engineers create this same effect through technology. It looks like he also made the winter of 1941 in Russia one of the worst it had ever seen to freeze the German Army under drifts of snow and subzero cold."

"The Wardens of the time and the White Council tried to keep track of Schertel's activities learning that much of his effort seemed to be dedicated toward communing with spirits and beings of the Nevernever. Based on the subject of his book, this was his area of expertise so we assumed that what he was doing was likely gathering intelligence on the Allies, just like the Allied wizards were doing to the Germans, and passing it on to the German High Command. It turns out though the wardens and the White Council were wrong; seriously wrong."

"Both groups started to get strong indications and reports that Schertel and his disciples had violated the Seventh Law of Magic." He said and then paused to let me better understand what he was saying.

The Seventh Law of Magic is _Thou Shall Not Seek Beyond the Outer Gates_. What that means is that there are beings which we wizards refer to as Outsiders who we are forbidden from attempting to have contact with. Some like to think of these beings as gods, and certainly God himself would be considered an outsider as far as his power level goes. Personally, due to my religious upbringing I have settled on just thinking of them, with the exception of God, as some really bad apples and left it simply at that. Getting to know them was not on my to do list. Shertle must have been pretty prideful or pretty desperate to dare to attempt such a thing.

"I'm assuming he failed because the world did not end and his side did not win the war." I said.

"We don't know but that is the general argument within the Wardens and the While Council as well." Carlos said. "Do you remember the Gatekeeper from your trail?" Carlos asked.

"I do." I replied. He was the most stereotypical of the wizards who had held judgment over me for violating the law. I remember when I was allowed to look he was dressed in a full hooded black cloak that covered his entire body from head to toe. I remembered him therefore because there was so little for me to remember about him other than that single article of clothing.

"He is called the Gatekeeper because he has the responsibility on the White Council for monitoring the Outer Gates and any wizard who attempts to make contact beyond this barrier." Carlos explained. That of course made sense based upon his title but I had also found a fair number or wizards assumed lofty and mysterious sounding titles for no apparent reason whatsoever so I had never made this connection. "Thankfully the power required for attempting such a contact is like lighting up a searchlight, not to mention there are only a few places on Earth where one can even attempt such a thing. This makes monitoring for such violations a relatively easy chore. Furthermore these spells can also only be attempted during certain astronomical alignments and those only happen a few times at year at most which is why the pagans went to such lengths at Stonehenge and other places to precisely map out the stars to know when these events were due."

"The Gatekeeper detected Schertel and his Red Shirts attempting this contact with the Outer Gates not once but twice during the early parts of the war." Carlos said.

"Do we know if they had any success in this?" I said with a sense of dread.

"We don't know." Carlos admitted. "One of the problems with the Outsiders is that they are so powerful and so alien in nature that we really have no way of knowing if one of them had answered or if they are walking around here on Earth."

"Well that is not good." I said.

"Maybe not. But remember because the Wardens and White Council has observed no immediate impact on events they assume the Red Shirts had either failed or at least not come to any acceptable agreement with something powerful to provide the Nazi's aid." Carlos explained. "What was most troubling was if this was perhaps an ongoing negotiation."

"Okay so the big guys couldn't let them keep trying until they were successful." I reasoned.

"No, obviously that was not an allowable course of action." Carlos said. "Even if they had been unsuccessful in the attempt, Schertel and his Red Shirts had still violated the Seventh Law and therefore had to punished; and punished with extreme prejudice."

"The White Council and the Wardens now began to track the Red Shirts and their activities more directly. Because they violated the Laws of Magic the Council agreed that the Wardens could step into this 'political event' in order to maintain our own laws." Carlos explained. "The Wardens started by tracking the Red Shirt meetings and found over some months that they primarily conducted their rituals at a place called Externsteine in northern Germany."

"Is that name supposed to mean something to me?" I asked because the way he had said it seemed to indicate it should be.

"No, probably not." He said making me think then he had tested me. "Externsteine is an ancient pagan site on the top of a granite mountain. Our histories record that this was the place the Germanic tribes took the Roman soldiers they captured and sacrificed them to their gods, supposedly by removing their souls but leaving their bodies intact."

I wanted to ask how, but on second thought that was certainly information I had no desire to have. I planned to sleep soon so nightmares of having my soul ripped out in a pagan sacrifice was not on the top of my list for getting a quiet night of sleep.

"Externsteine is also one of those unique locations, in fact the only one in Germany, where it is possible to establish contact with the Outsiders because it sits at a key junction of ley lines." I knew ley lines were sort of like interstates only that these were the locations where magic was the strongest. Places that these invisible highways of magic power intersected were even more powerful still.

"Okay so you knew when and where the Schertel and his Red Shirts were going to be based on their history and these conjunctions so the Wardens obviously attacked them." I reasoned from all I had been told.

"Yes though it was not so simple as all that." Carlos confirmed. "World War II was a trying time for the Wardens and the White Council. While Schertel and his Red Shirts were certainly a problem, our side was focused more upon another necromancer named Kemmler who was seen as more powerful and therefore the greater threat. Overtones for alliance were even sent to Schertel and his Red Shirts to help in hunting down this necromancer and his apprentices and Schertel did respond with some information as to Kemmler's whereabouts though the Red Shirts did not become involved in the actual hunt. I suspect now that Schertel was providing this because he saw Kemmler as a rival to his own plans and wanted him eliminated before he could cause complications. And this also had the added benefit of keeping the White Council and the Wardens out of his affairs in the process as well."

Harry had explained his own encounters with Kemmler's apprentices so I knew much of that story, but it put the timeline of events into better perspective now that Carlos was explaining the rest of it.

"Though it took a few years, the White Council finally got back around to looking into Schertel's violations of the Seventh Law of Magic as well. His assistance with Kemmler was appreciated, but not worthy of a reprieve in the grand scheme of things." He continued. "The night in question was the March 15, 1944 and the Merlin also pulled strings with his friend Churchill to convince the Royal Air Force to bomb Brunswick, Germany that night was well. Brunswick was where the Red Shirt's major operations were housed. The plan was to take down Schertel and those Red Shirts with him at Externsteine while the bombers killed any remaining Red Shirts still at their barracks."

"But Schertel was not there." I said drawing Carlos up short again with my information I had already acquired. He did not let it stop him this time but instead just continued to tell his story.

"No he was not, nor were his best apprentices." Carlos answered. "At the time the Wardens suspected Schertel had been tipped off somehow about the attack but since only the White Council and the top leaders of the Wardens knew about the raid, its location, and targets that would mean somebody pretty high up in the White Council food chain was playing for the other side, or maybe playing both sides off against each other."

"The Wardens did take down some of his more junior members, apprentices really, who had not been informed of the coming attack." Carlos said. "And from questioning them the Merlin learned that Schertel himself was operating out of his home city of Dresden so he ensured that city was incinerated in firebombing. Happily I can saw the White Council records are pretty sure Schertel was killed in these attacks."

"He wasn't." I said drawing him up short and contradicting his story and the records they were based on.

"How do you know this?" He asked seeing the certainty of my beliefs in the way I said that.

"I know because I spent the afternoon talking to the man who actually did kill him." I answered.

"You will need to explain a little more than just that." He said making me sit up and try to focus my eyes with a soft groan. Carlos is certainly pleasant to look at, but I was getting really tired by this point and my headache was getting worse.

I explained everything from that day starting with my talk with Mr. Goldman and then all that Heinrich had said to me about the submarine's design and all the way to how he had killed Schertel by drowning him. Carlos listened intently without saying anything until I had completed my reciting of these events. He seemed to mull the facts around in his head for a moment as I settled back on the couch and covered my eyes again.

"I am not familiar with the specific spell he used but it sounds like Schertel linked his life force with the submarine."

"So since the submarine still exists that means he is still alive?" I asked in dread. That would be all I needed to hear.

"No." Carlos said. "The spell components you describe sounds like he was creating a wizard sanctuary where he could tap down his powers to be undetected but still offer himself some form of protection from outside magic. I bet had he been attacked by Wardens on the sub itself they would not have been able to hurt him either with their magic." Carlos reasoned from the facts I gave him.

"Just like being attacked physically did not cause him permanent harm." I said. "He could regenerate from that."

"Exactly. Carlos reasoned. "Except of course he screwed up and explained his limitation to Heinrich who figured out how to kill him and did so in a rather unique and effective way to also not suffer a death curse." He stopped to consider more of my story.

"The fact that he arrived on the same day at the submarine on the same day the Warden raid was set for confirms that someone got word to him that my brothers from that time were coming his way." He continued. "So he heads to the place he has built to tap down his power and make him invisible to anyone who was looking for him and goes to ground while the raid does nothing overly productive."

"Yep." I agreed. "With the cops onto him it's time to skip town and take up another line of work I guess."

"Maybe." Carlos said.

"Why maybe?"

"First I do not know of any wizard that has ever given up their line of work." Carlos said. "And secondly I have a feeling that he felt what he was working on could easily be moved to a new location rather than given up upon completely." His eyes held a look of distress.

"What was he working on?"

"Well from the papers the Wardens collected we learned that the Red shirts were trying to contact a being called Nerthus." He explained.

That name meant less than nothing to me. "Okay I will bite who is Nerthus?"

"From the record she might have been a fertility goddess for the Germanic Pagans." He said. "That is the only cross reference with that specific name. Some speculation this is also the Norse Goddess Frea who is also seen as the Earth Mother."

"Assuming our mythology is true, why would Schertel be trying to contact a fertility goddess?"

"Beyond the Germanic connection to the land no one has any clue." He said. I thought on it for a few seconds but my mind could not wrap around the concept with any clarity.

"Oh and it also looks like Schertel was trying to create a god." He said just like a mother saying 'little Davey used the potty today.'

"What?" I asked. "Create God?"

"Not God." Carlos said. "A god… or rather a being of incredible power." He explained.

"Okay according to my readings God created man, not vice versa." My eyes were open again.

"Okay let me try to explain this as I understand it." Carlos said rubbing his own temples as well. Glad to know I was not the only one here getting a headache with this conversation.

"You know how this rabbi you explained about is infusing dirt with enough power for it to become animated for a short period of time in order to perform a specific service?" Carlos asked and I nodded. "Okay it is like that only you need a stronger lasting living vessel and a whole lot more power to fill it."

"So it is possible?" I asked.

"In theory sure." Carlos said. "But according to the Wardens and the members of the high council that looked into it, it cannot succeed for two major reasons. First the living vessel has to be strong enough to receive it. The types of power we are talking about would kill anyone they were poured into. No one can take that kind of power and live. Well that is unless they already have that kind of power already, which makes the whole need for such a spell irrelevant to begin with."

"And the second reason?"

"Gathering up that much power is impossible." Carlos said. Even if you tried it with a bunch of individual wizards and transported all this power to the vessel to be filled, the magic gathered would fade away as you filled it over the days, like your shield bracelet fades over time. It would melt away long before you had enough to fill the vessel up and reach the necessary level."

"Well then we have nothing to worry about if it is impossible." I reasoned thanking him for clarifying and providing me understanding to make this not an issue I had to focus on.

"Yeah I'm not so sure." Carlos said as he drew a piece of paper out of his pocket and laid it before me. I looked down on it but I could not make out the words as they were in German. I looked at him in annoyance and he apologized and cast a small smell that made the ink on the page reform into the translated words in English.

"He who does not have the demonic seed within himself will never give birth to a magical world." It said and I read it aloud

"What the hell, pardon the pun, does that mean?" I asked.

"I am not 100% sure but it was written by Adolf Hitler in the margins of Schertel's book." Carlos explained. "But that gave me an idea based on the other data I had seen on the Red Shirts. If the living vessel had a 'demonic seed' meaning part of such a soul, then theoretically they might be able to accept that level of power."

The fact he thought he had come up with a possible solution to one of the impossibilities was bad, but there was still the second safety. "But you still can't gather that amount of power, right?" I asked. "You or someone else did not come up with a solution for that did you?"

"No you can't." Carlos said. "At least as far as I am aware."

"Okay then." I said a bit relieved. "Then we have nothing to worry about at the moment."

"Perhaps." He said sending a shudder through my body.

"And why is that?" I asked knowing in my heart that I did not want to hear whatever answer Carlos was about to provide me with.

"Well since I knew what the wardens back then were looking for I decided to check this out also." He explained. "It turns out that there is another one of these Outer Gate ley line portals right here in Chicago as well." He said.

"That could just be a coincidence." I said, though of course I did not believe it.

"Yeah, well the bigger coincidence is that the next alignment just happens to be in two…" He stopped and checked the time on Harry's wind up clock noting it was after midnight making this now officially Thursday. "Make that in one more day. The next conjunction is tomorrow."

Oh yeah, that thought was certainly not going to be one to help me get a good night's sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Axis and Allies**

**_Thursday Afternoon _**

**_Chapter 17_**

Well life was truly getting interesting I had to admit. Harry had asked me to take care of his place and now I was embroiled in a situation with Nazi wizards, Jewish occult golems, and potentially one of the all-powerful Outsiders if things were as bad as they could possibly be. "This will teach you for saying you are me!" A voice inside my head that sounded very much like Harry mocked me as my throbbing headache kicked things up a notch.

I really needed to get some sleep. If only Carlos would take a hint and leave then I could go find Harry's bed and try to recover a little of my energy at least. Of course that was completely wishful thinking on my part. Why should anything go right for me this week?

"This will teach you for saying you are me!" The voice played out again within me.

"Shut up already Harry, you made your point." I thought in silence and he seemed to listen. Somehow though I knew if I could picture him he would be smiling in satisfaction at my distress.

"Molly what do you know about Mister?" Carlos asked from out of the blue bringing me back from the almost unconscious world I was falling into. If this was his way of merely making polite conversation or even an open gambit of flirting he really picked the wrong night for it. But since he was a Warden and I was under the Doom I was obliged to answer him truthfully on all things, well at least all things magical. A girl has to have her secrets.

"Not much." I answered. "Other than Harry found him in a dumpster and thinks he is part bobcat or something because of his abnormal size. Why do you ask?"

"Because you told me last light that Mister led you to the Katz Manuscript." Carlos explained. "And after what you learned today I would have to say that is an incredible coincidence don't you think?"

Okay I admit it was weird but what did that mean? "So what exactly are you suggesting?" I asked. "Are you thinking Mister is possessed by some type of magical entity from the Nevernever?"

"Honestly at first that is exactly what I thought." Carlos said. "And that concerned me because if it were true then potentially Harry had violated the Fourth Law of Magic and somehow magically enthralled some sort of being into the body of a cat. I knew he could not be a summoning because then every dawn he would get sent back and he does not seem to."

He noted my immediate distaste at hearing him accuse Harry of yet another crime. "I said I was concerned and if you were at all objective you would see that this was the most likely possibility."

"You said 'was.'"

"Yes I did because I know Harry well enough to know he would not do such a thing, well not without really good cause." He amended. "And when I disbanded his wards tonight I made sure to check that there was one that keeps such beings from freely entering his apartment. There is which is as I had expected. And since it is a very common tried and true garden variety of ward without any modifications that might allow such a being to enter I now have proof that my assumption of his innocence was correct."

"You are beginning to remind me more and more of Morgan Carlos." I said blatantly making him blanch.

There was silence between us for a few moments until finally I decided if I ever wanted to get to sleep I would have to finish this conversation so he would leave. "So if he is not a possessed cat what are you thinking, a familiar?" I asked.

"You have been reading too many fantasy novels." Carlos tried a joke to get me to smile. It fell flat because of my headache, but I appreciated the attempt anyway.

"You are correct that cats have been linked to wizards, and especially witches in the past but that is not really because of the myths of familiars." Carlos said. "When I was in looking at the Warden records I also checked out references to cats as well. I found something that may be able to explain this and also be useful with what is going on." He looked at me for surprised expectation.

I waited only two seconds for him to continue. "So do I have to guess?"

He laughed. "In Ancient Egypt cats were considered to have mystical skills but not as familiars. The high priests thought that cats had the ability to sense being from beyond the gates of death. Since this sensing ability included vampires and nasty things from the Nevernever we can assume that these cats they were referring to could sense all such creatures…perhaps even those from beyond the Outer Gates."

"And you are suggesting that since Mister is a cat he has this ability so helped us out?" I asked not really sure I could accept this.

"From the records, supposedly all cats do not have this power but instead it was contained within a very specific bloodline." He corrected. "But the Egyptian priests recorded that these rare cats would literally throw themselves as such creatures and do battle. You have seen vampires and some of those things from the Nevernever. Do you really think a seven pound tabby is ever considered much of a threat to one of them? Hell even a dozen of them attacking in a swarm wouldn't last a minute against a Red Court vampire." He said.

"But now picture a thirty pound Mister leaping onto your back and latching his teeth into the base of your neck and having his four claws rips down your back." Carlos offered. "Odds are he would knock you down, and if they do actually have an ability to harm such mystical beings then they certainly are a force to at least be acknowledged if not respected. And a pride of such cats would be even worse."

"Any you think Harry just happened to find one of these Egyptian cats?" I said skeptically.

"Well he has a Chinese Temple dog, an animal much of the world, including the magical world, thought was extinct." Carlos replied. "Is it really all that hard to believe Harry might have an Egyptian cat that should be almost as rare?"

Okay I was way too tired to try to wrap my head around that without more help. "Okay Carlos I am way too tired to try and wrap my head around that without your help." I said. Hey, I was tired so do not expect any wittier dialogue beyond what ran straight through my mind.

"All I am saying is I think that it might be a good idea to keep Mister nearby if you have any additional activities related to these events." Carlos warned.

"You want me to take Mister along?" I asked skeptically seeing if this was some sort of odd test.

"Yes, that is what I recommend." He said without any hint of humor in his response.

"And perhaps the oh mighty Warden would explain the spell on how to leash train a thirty pound cat?" I asked.

At that point the very cat in question came sauntering back into the main room with a look like, well like he didn't eat a canary but rather like he ate and entire Big Bird! He wandered right past Carlos and up to me and began to rub himself along my leg looking up expectantly. I made sure my dress was positioned in such a way as to limit what he saw.

"I don't know." He said. "I have this feeling he will stay really close to you." He said smiling with his bright white teeth before laughing. He kept that up all the way to the door leaving me alone with a frisky cat.

"Hey Mister is that Mickey Mouse?" I said pointing to the corner. The cat looked and I took the opportunity and ran into Harry's bedroom, slamming the door before he could follow. I had no intentions of having any more adventures tonight so Mister could sleep outside.

Did I ever mention that I have come to the conclusion that God hates me? I mean hates. Somewhere up in Heaven there is a list of things and people God hates, and probably somewhere about two-thirds of the way down between Satanists setting fire to houses of worship and anything qualified as reality television the name Molly Carpenter is prominently displayed for all the angels to stop by between granting miracle and laugh at. What you do not believe me? Observe what happened and you will.

It was the next morning in class, see I had slept through the night, okay what little of it was left after Carlos left and before I had to get up at five in the morning again, without any issues. Those who bet against my earlier statement of not needing Mister can now pay up. Anyway my problems with God's displeasure actually began in my lovely English Literature class where the entire class are still working our way though Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. It is Act Four Scene One and some of the other students in the class have developed a death wish.

I guess I should have mentioned that being as busy as I was last night I had failed to read ahead and prepare for class. Okay I was on a date, but I was still busy! And of course today is one of those days where Nick Bottom of course has a major role and dialogue to share with the rest of the class. I of course have no idea what he is going to say so to take care of this disadvantage I am trying to skim ahead in the book a few lines while not trying to lose track of the story being read aloud around me. Looking back now I figure I had about a thirty second period where I realized what was coming and thought "Oh shit!" Thirty seconds seems to be God's average amount of time to allow you to know how bad of a situation you are in but not give you sufficient time to mitigate or escape this issue. By the way that thought of "Oh Shit" happening in a Catholic school does in fact constitute a mortal sin according to Father Forthill so in addition to my problem I also added a new item to my required confession for this weekend. But that thought did not help me now.

"Molly it is your line." The teacher said with a look of oblivious enjoyment of our reading of the play so far. And just about everyone else in class looked on with eager anticipation as well, though not because they found Shakespeare's words inspiring. It seems like most of them had also read ahead and were waiting. They all seemed to realize as I did that God and the Bard had conspired to ruin my life centuries before I was even born.

Well no use being asked a second time. Not like I could luck out an my appendix burst or anything. "Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch." I began my next line with the enthusiasm of a marine private told to take a hill in the face of enemy machinegun fire. "I must to the barber's, monsieur; for methinks I am marvelous hairy…" There was a snort from someone behind me, I think it was our school team quarterback, trying to withhold his giggle but even though I turned quickly to catch him I could not identify the culprit. "…about the face…" This time it was the cheerleader sitting next to me who snorted in a very unfeminine way and I could feel myself getting mad. "…and I am such a tender ass…" That was it, the whole class lost it right there with those last two words.

"Class stop it." Our teacher tried to regain control, but the damn had broken and all, well make that all except me and the teacher, were enjoying the moment of laughter at my expense.

"Hey Molly, do you need to borrow my electric razor?" One of the guys across the room called out.

"Hey she can't help it if she has a mustache." The cheerleader said. "Oh and back hair."

"Or do you mean for her tender ass?" Our quarterback responded.

"No really she has a mustache, though you can barely see it." The first guy called out again. "Her back hair on the other had is just slightly longer than that."

"Are you kidding, she can braid it." The quarterback jeered and had everyone laughing again.

It took two long and frustrating minutes of sitting in silence and fuming until the teacher had control of the class once more. My hands were under my desk clenching as I thought about how nice it would be to fling a ball of fire at the quarterback, but I had promised Harry upon becoming his apprentice I would control my temper and not use magic for petty vengeances.

"Molly please continue." The teacher said. "You make a wonderful Nick Bottom."

"I agree her bottom does not require improvement." The first guy said from across the room making everyone turn and laugh once more. Did I mention by now I was pissed?

"That is except of course when she has to shave it!" The quarterback sitting behind me said getting a load of laughs again as well.

At that exact moment the detection charm I still wore for the watch came to life and nearly jumped under my blouse. Over the years I had trained myself not to vocally swear in school but since this sudden surprise caught me off guard it made me scream the first non-swear word that came to mind. I should note it happened while my right hand pushed it down quickly on the charm so no one would notice it trying to pop through my blouse. This unfortunately left my left hand hanging by my side with my palm facing backwards when the word I spoke took effect.

"Fuego."

Yes I had been thinking of setting the quarterback on fire, and yes I had even called up some magic for my practice on control under stressful and angry situations, but I had never _really_ intended to use it. Unfortunately, magic does not fully understand the term intent. It just knows I had called it up and then used the word to release it as if I did intend it to go flying. So, it went off just as it had been directed.

Compared to my fireball out front the Holocaust museum this was a much smaller flame. Compared to Harry's fire spells, this was barely even noticeable. Well that is if you did not see the results of the quarterback standing up screaming like a little girl suddenly that his pants were on fire, which of course they were.

Based upon Father Forthill's views on foul language in school and some of the colorful vernacular that the quarterback started spouting as he tugged his burning pants down his legs and off to put them out I figured my time in confession this weekend will be comparatively minor to his. Of course between the previous laughter at my expense and the new embarrassment over a student standing in his underwear in the middle of English Literature class while his pants turned to ashes, pandemonium had taken full hold of the students at this point and all additional attempts by the teacher at regaining control were severely challenged.

Her battle was completely lost a few seconds later when Davey, the quiet boy in every class who dreams of growing up to be a fireman, ran into the hallway and pulled the school's fire alarm in order to save us all. It did not matter that the fire was already out by this point, the alarm klaxon sent the entire school student body, including my disrupted class, heading for the parking lot as the emergency plan required for our teachers to take attendance.

I let everyone filter out of the room ahead of me, especially letting the quarterback face the embarrassment in the hallway alone because I could not trust myself from not making a comment of my own about his bottom, before pulling free the chain and marking what direction the charm was aiming for. I now had my second bearing line and I only had to get over to Harry's office to draw this one out on the same map of Chicago and see where the two lines intersected and the watch was hiding. Smiling I went to join up with my class outside where the quarterback, the teacher, and a vice principal with a disapproving look on his face were discussing events.

"I guess the lighter in my pocket just exploded." The quarterback was offering as the only possible way his pants could have caught on fire in the middle of an English class.

"You know smoking and lighters are not permitted on campus!" The vice principal said in response. Well that is one less embarrassing situation that might come my way or that I will need to make an excuse for I guess. Too bad I could not tell him and make it a learning experience. Ah well I can just be happy with the results.

I could hear the responding fire trucks from blocks away and knew it was going to be awhile before the students and teachers were cleared to go back into the building. By that time it would be time for lunch so sticking around at school now really served no purpose for me. I tapped the vice principal on the shoulder while he was considering what to say to his star athlete standing there in his boxers in front of the entire school.

"Yes Molly?" He seemed happy for the distraction.

"Sir I am just letting you know I am leaving campus to go work on that special project Ms. Murphy called you about." I said.

"Alright." He said after a moment obviously a little annoyed but he had at present more important things on his mind than dealing with a student skipping out of study hall to help the police. I thanked him and headed for the Blue Beetle sitting way in the back of the parking lot.

Twenty minutes later I was pulling to a stop in a spot right outside of Harry's office. As I pulled to a stop the tug on the detection charm ceased once more. I ran up the three flights of stairs, the elevator not being particularly safe, and opened the door to find three people standing in the office as if they had expected me to arrive any minute. Ms. Brown, my first client, was standing beside a middle aged man who was obviously the husband she had picked up a few nights ago at the airport. My god had that really been Monday? Wow how time had flown.

Across from them also stood Mr. Leland and all three seemed in the midst of having a pleasant conversation like old friends just as I had arrived. "I am sorry did we have an appointment?" I said a little shocked to see both my clients here at once, especially since I had not planned to be here until the seeker charm had made this a necessary stop. I picked up the pile of mail from the floor and tossed it in the in basket. I would look at it later. Instead I walked to the chair behind the desk and sat down like I owned the place.

"Ah Ms. Dresden." Ms. Brown turned to regard me. I do not know if it was the daytime or some other factor but she appeared much more confident and imposing that she had when I had first met her. Back then she had seemed a truly scared woman out of her depth. Now she was like some blonde Valkyrie come to life ready either to swoop down and draw her sword or about to start singing German opera.

"Ms. Brown." I acknowledged. "I am sorry but I have no news on your son Eric for you or your husband Mr. Brown?" I said feeling guilty that events had kept me from even looking for him. I assumed that the skinheads I had been seeing as corpses were the same ones Eric had befriended but they were all locals and not out-of-towners as Ms. Brown had described. I took this as a good sign that he was not dead, but still it did not give me any real clue as to where Eric might be right now.

"Oh I am sorry." She picked up on my request for an introduction. This is my husband Doctor Joseph Maneul, name after his dear father. I kept my own name however." Ms. Brown said giving him a kiss on the cheek. The stone-like coldly-handsome man merely accepted this action of affection without displaying any emotion all the while keeping his eyes on me instead.

"Eric contacted me just this morning and explained how everything was going well for him now and that I need not worry any further." Ms. Brown continued adding her own appraising look at me. I do not know what the pair saw but assumed they were less than pleased with my lack of performance on this case. I wondered if I should tell them about the golems as a form of excuse at least.

"Well then I suspect I owe you a refund." I said trying to lighten the intensity of their stares.

"No not at all." She answered waiving me off. "I merely wanted to ensure I had covered all your expenses that you agreed we had no remaining debts between us."

That was an odd way of putting it. "No if you do not want a refund then the business between us is completed I guess."

"Excellent." She said turning to Mr. Leland who sat quietly observing all of this without comment or emotion beyond a hint of entertainment on the corner of his lips.

"It was a pleasure catching up with you my old friend." She said. "You must come by my island once your business is completed and we can speak more of the good old days."

"I thank you for your kind offer." Mr. Leland replied. "But I tend to prefer thinking about the future rather than reminiscing of how good things were in the past. Once I have completed my business here in Chicago and collected the debts owed me I shall be moving on to other ventures."

"You always were one strictly focused on business." She teased him with an edge of seriousness.

"I do not have your lovely island of Castum to lounge around for years on end my dear." He said in response. "Though if you were willing to trade the island I am certain I could find a price you…"

"It is not for sale." She said slightly more seriously. "I am not to be considered one of your customers. I thought perhaps we could be friends. We may have additional mutual interests."

"I only have customers."

"Such is the pity then." She turned to her husband who had said nothing and still shown no emotion at this odd exchange. The couple headed for the the way out. "Good afternoon Ms. Dresden." The pair departed with firm closing of the door that made the glass rattle in the pane.

"You should be more discriminating with how you pick your clients Ms. Dresden." Mr. Leland said with a secretive smile.

"In this line of work I do not pick them." I said in defense. "They come to me; just like you did."

"Yes but with me I make a fair and honest trade for goods or services." He countered looking at me. "She is one that sticks only to the exact letter of the law in all deals she makes."

"You obviously disapprove of her or her methods yet you talked like you were old friends." I said.

"Acquaintances only who have shared some time together before." He smiled all the more toward me. "While I do not mind a woman with a certain level of self-confidence, those who take that feeling past even arrogance to the point of thinking they deserve to be worshipped by the rest of us I can do without." Well perhaps that somehow explained the lack of acknowledgement Dr. Manuel gave to Mr. Leland. Obviously the two men looked very differently upon Ms. Brown.

But of course none of this had to do with why he was here so I turned the conversation to more relevant issues. "I assume you are here for an update on the search for your watch. I will tell you I just received my second tug on the detection charm a short time ago and with this second bearing line I hope to locate your watch by tonight." I said which was a little optimistic on my part but I had to offer him something if I wanted to keep on the case, and of course the diamonds. Heaven knows Ms. Brown's review of my performance did not exactly inspired confidence in my searching abilities.

"That is most excellent news." He said. "I had a feeling you would have some good information for me today." He smiled and that look was even more disturbing than usual. "I remind you that I must have resolution on this issue by tomorrow for I am leaving the city after that. I recall I offered you two more pouches of diamonds but let me make it three instead partly because I like you Ms. Dresden and additionally so that I hope you will see this mission through to an immediate and successful conclusion."

"It is my most immediate priority." I said honestly, picturing the diamonds in my mind once more.

"You have my complete confidence in your abilities." He said with a wink and then turned and headed toward the door to leave as well.

Something in his departure made me want to stop him but I had no idea why. In truth I really did not like him and wanted him to depart, but for some reason I had to get him to speak a little more. "Uh, Mr. Leland?" I called out making him stop, turn, and regard me.

"Yes?"

Great Molly, what the heck do you do now? "Do you by chance know Ms. Brown's first name?" I asked for no other reason than it happened to pop into my mind at that exact moment.

"I do indeed." He said with a smile. "And I believe you do as well." He said and then tipped his hat before leaving and looking at his pocket watch. "Tempus Fugit Ms. Dresden, Tempus Fugit."

Time flies? I thought to myself. Was that supposed to mean anything else but that he was leaving tomorrow? Oh well I had more pressing matters to attend to than trying to find that out.

I pulled out Harry's folding map of Chicago, a red pen, and a ruler and drew the second bearing line from the school toward where the charm had pointed for me. The second line had been southeast. No matter what you might thin that was still a big and bad part of Chicago. Remember Leroy Brown was from there.

As the line got closer to the first bearing line I had drawn I started to see what was going on and where the likely cross point was. Holy… no scratch that… did not need another penance on Sunday. Odds were starting to form up that I was quite likely going to have a lot more to ask forgiveness about based upon the data I was seeing here.

I flipped Harry's rolodex around and pulled two of the cards out from it; the one for Murphy and the other for Carlos and jammed them in my pocket. I did not have enough of a reason to call of these two either at this point but there was every possibility I could need one or the other based upon what I was seeing here. In fact it was highly likely I would need them both perhaps in the next twenty-four hours. And if I did end up needing them then that would not be the right time to be calling operator information and asking if they had the numbers I needed.

I left the office and got into the Blue Beetle and other than one quick stop for gas, damn this car gets great mileage, I was off heading to the location where the bearing lines crossed. Of course my mapping skills were not completely dead accurate, but the coincidence of the likely location seemed too much to not be true.

Traffic was a little more annoying than in the previous days but I made my way to my destination without getting caught in a jam. By now this route was becoming a second nature drive for me. So it took just under an hour and I found myself driving past the Museum of Science and Industry for the third time in three days. I know the parking lot around back was not full, but I had no desire to pay again especially for just the quick in and out I hoped this was going to be.

I missed the stoplight for the parking lot and crosswalk as I was going by the building so I had to stop directly in front of the museum. This gave me the opportunity to look over at the facility and surprisingly see Rabbi Ishmael Rothstein stepping off the last of the stairs and hailing one of the parked taxis that loitered outside the museum looking for fares. This was all the confirmation I needed that I was at the right place for my detection spell, but now I was conflicted as to my proper course of action.

I could go into the museum and search or I could take off and follow Ishmael who was obviously up to something important. Both courses had advantages and disadvantages to them. There was no guarantee I would find the watch inside the museum, but neither was it likely I could get Ishmael to talk if he did not want to. On the other hand finding the watch meant success in something I was hired for. However, something inside told me that the real story still rested with Ishmael. He was the central figure in these events and probably had been for the last sixty years or even longer.

His cab was pulling away just as my light finally changed to green. The car behind me hit his horn, Chicago drivers being some of the most impatient in the nation, to tell me to move on and that he was in a rush. I gave him the traditional Chicago thumbs up, that does not actually involve a thumb at all, and was just about to hit the gas in the beetle when hurried motion caught my eyes and I saw the missing fifth skinhead racing down the steps of the museum and getting into a cab as well. Even from a few cars away, the hurried pace he had followed by pointing to Ishmael's taxi was all I needed to know that he said 'follow that car!' Well that made my decision for me.

The Nazi following Ishmael could only mean the old man was going to be in trouble so if that were not reason enough to decide to follow the pair of them then I did not know what was. I pulled into the spot the second cab had just vacated. It was for taxis only but I was not going to be here long of everything went okay.

I ran into up to the museum and saw the guard standing by the door. "I need to talk to Curtis…" Dammit I never got his last name I suddenly realized and was embarrassed.

"Curtis?" He asked confused as if the name meant nothing to him.

"Yeah he is your new assistant curator downstairs. Just started last week." I explained.

"Oh, I did not know that was his name." The guard said. "If you would just wait here."

"I do not have time." I said. I pulled Murphy's number on the rolodex card from my pocket. Please give this to Curtis and ask him to call Sergeant Murphy of the Chicago Police Department at these numbers and tell her Molly said she saw Ishmael going home followed by number five. Do you got all that?" I asked looking over my shoulder to see the second cab leaving my sight as it turned down the road.

The guard repeated my instructions verbatim and I nodded in response and raced back to the Blue Beetle and jumped in. I had left the car running but still no one in Chicago seemed willing to want to steal it even being this easy. I gunned the engine and merged back into traffic rather briskly. The advantage I had of course was there were few cars willing to run into me. The cost to repair a Mercedes headlight was more than I would get for this car and other drivers knew it. And if any car screamed the driver cannot afford auto insurance it was the Blue Beetle.

All that being said it was still acting reliably for me so I was not going to complain. I made the same turn as the two cabs had west onto 55th street and realized by the near sea of yellow cars in a seeming river ahead of me that I would never pick out either of the two I was looking for. My only option then was to put my driving skills and the Blue Beetle up against a Chicago cabbie and see if I could beat them both to the Rothstein residence. I slammed the gas and the car sputtered, nearly flooding and dying, but then took off as fast as its little engine could. It was scary but life or death might be resting upon the ugliest car in Chicago.


	18. Chapter 18

**Axis and Allies**

**_Thursday Late Afternoon _**

**_Chapter 18_**

By this time I got within sight of the Rothstein's housing development neighborhood I had seen no signs of one much less two yellow cabs heading in this direction. Either I was a ways ahead of them or too far behind. Traffic had been brutal for me on one of my roads so I was fearful I had lost the race. But if Curtis had come through for me then maybe Murphy was already on scene and we could not only wrap this situation up but also keep the old man safe and healthy in the process. Yeah I really am a sucker for wishful thinking.

The guard at the gated community entrance recognized the Blue Beetle, which really was not all that hard to do after you have seen it once, and waved me through without even asking me my business. I still paused at the gate shack long enough to ask if he had allowed any taxis to pass through in the last half hour or so. He looked at me strangely obviously wondering how I would know this but admitted one had indeed driven through not fifteen minutes ago.

He also said he had observed that a second had driven past the entrance road soon after very slowly as if checking the place out without actually turning in to try and enter. The guard had assumed the second taxi was merely someone checking out gated communities perhaps with plans to move into since they housing development had such people drive up all the time and ask to check the place out. Normally such people were referred to the community manager to set up an appointment. Since no one in the cab had emerged and asked questions the guard had thought it odd at the time but had not connected it to the first cab until I had mentioned it. He now asked if there was a potential problem for the Rothsteins.

Based on this information I knew Ishmael had been the one to come through the gate ahead of me but the skinhead following him had realized he would not make it through and had turned off rather than challenge security and be observed in the process. I wondered, like the guard, if avoiding scrutiny was part of a plan to do harm later and therefore the Nazi did not want to have anyone remember him in connection to any events later.

If that were true it meant that perhaps he had decided to abandon the taxi up the street and come into the community on foot however to find where Rabbi Rothstein lived. Or he could even be pulling a more modern private eye type trick by locating an address for any Rothstein in this neighborhood and then come back to visit him at another time. Either option was still likely a very bad situation in my book. I warned the guard to be on the lookout for young bald men saying if he saw one that he did not recognize assume he was armed. He thanked me for the heads up. As I said he was welcome the guard turned his face from looking mine to look instead at the three cars pulling in behind me; none of which I noted in my mirrors was a taxi.

The first was actually Murphy's Saturn which pulled up right behind me followed by a pair of standard black and white police cars. Karrin flashed her badge out the window at the guard beside me and called out the Rothstein name loud enough for me to hear as well. The guard still standing by me asked me to pull over to the side in the guard parking area and as I did he then let them all straight through.

I watched in my rearview mirror and Murphy nodded to me as she went by wearing her serious cop look and making me hesitant to follow too closely to prevent becoming more publicly involved. I agreed figuring if she wanted me with her now she would say so and if not I certainly did not want to get in the way of her officers.

Parking was once again a premium around the Rothstein house so accordingly I took a convenient spot a little ways down the block or right across from where the pool construction was still taking place. This was also a spot among the construction crews' vehicles where the Blue Beetle would be just a tad less obvious than in the midst of the Cadillacs, BMWs, SUVs and minivans parked in front of the various residences closer to the Rothstein home. This spot also offered me a perfect observation point of both Murphy's Saturn and the two police cars as well as the front yard of Ishmael's family residence.

I did not want to draw any additional unwanted attention to myself while everyone was focused on the police cars so I sat in the Blue Beetle and just observed events. I did note Murphy look my direction and nod slightly my way before gathering up the four uniformed officers who had arrived with her and all five of them head up the sidewalk toward the Rothstein residence. Between them and the door though, the family and a group of guest mourners were already gathering together in a small mob for the likely and inevitable confrontation to come.

I have to hand it to Murphy when she has her cop face on she is all business. While I could even feel the hostility of the crowd toward her and the other officers from all the way over here, part of my magical sensitivity I guess, she did not let it deter her from her course or her mission.

There was a single quick fast verbal confrontation as one of the guests who carried himself like a lawyer tried to interpose himself between both groups and intimidate Murphy with his legal jargon, additional foot or so in height, and hundred pounds of girth. Luckily he was also graced with just enough intelligence so did not try to place a hand on her as she moved forward so no physical violence erupted on the lawn because she felt obliged to relocate his spleen.

After he made his required speeches of intimidation to a rather bored looking Karrin, she pulled out a tri-folded set of papers from her pocket and handed them over to him. I took this to be either a warrant for Ishmael's arrest or a search warrant of the property to find him. Either way, after only a quick glance of what was written on the documents the larger lawyer's shoulders slumped a bit in resignation as the wind was taken out of his sails by her legal authority. He then stepped aside to allow her to proceed because a charge of obstruction of justice never sits well on a lawyer's permanent record. But the crowd of family and friends behind him did not show any sign of giving in as easily and seemed ready to block the police's progress regardless of whatever legal authority they claimed to have.

About at this point, a young woman, approximately my age or a year or two older, stepped between the advancing police and the crowd. Her youth and obvious sorrow made her a strange ambassador for the group but she stood up straight, just an inch or two taller than Karrin and halted the police again. The two women conversed for only a few moments, each making points based upon the other's responses, and quickly coming to some sort of agreed upon resolution.

Finally the resistance leader turned back to the crowd and asked them to disperse and return to their homes. Though the group had been willing a moment ago to openly confront five trained and armed law enforcement officers, the young woman's calm words broke their defiance with her obvious pleas for no more violence. I realized then by her power over the crowd that this girl could only be Jonathan Rothstein's former fiancé. Therefore there was no way anyone who professed to love the family could deny this girl her request after all she had lost.

Singularly and in obvious family groups the mourners collected their personal belongings and headed to their cars offering their heartfelt wishes to the family and saying nothing further provoking to the officers to honor the girl's request. In five minutes only the parents of Jonathan and his former wife to be were left standing by the doorway to the house.

Murphy's own confrontational posture had slackened a bit as well by this point and she offered to show the warrant to the family. They merely accepted it as valid without looking and waited on the porch as the four uniformed officers and finally Murphy entered the home and began their search for Ishmael. I sat behind the wheel of the Blue Beetle and waited patiently figuring that it was past six o'clock already because the sun would be going down shortly. Looks like I would not be hunting for the pocket watch after all.

I sat quietly in the car and watched the three family members as they conversed among themselves. I also noted any time one of the officers was near the door or within range of hearing the family would immediately grow silent as if fearful they might be overheard. I could only guess what it was then they were talking about.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of a determined yet fruitless search, Murphy and her four officers emerged from the home obviously empty handed and admitting defeat. Karrin sent the four back to their cars while she stopped to talk to the family one more time. Her speech seemed from what I could observe of her posture from here as a combination of an apology for the intrusion into the family's lives again mixed with the latent threat that hiding Ishmael would only lead them into trouble as well. If the latter subtle threat had any effect on the trio it was not evident in their still defiant postures.

After she got into her car the family turned and went into the house as Murphy pulled up next to me and rolled her window down. "We got nothing kid." She said obviously frustrated by these results.

"Murphy I saw him get into the cab, and the gate guard said he had waived him through less than a half hour before we got here." I explained. "The second cab drove by slowly as well but the skinhead did not try to enter. He instead headed up the road."

"Molly I believe you completely." She said. "Hell just by talking to the family I know they know where the old rabbi is but they are not about to share that with the cops. They would rather go to jail themselves than give up someone close to them who has lost so much. And to tell you the truth I can't say I would react any differently in their situation."

"Unit 402 to Sergeant Murphy." Karrin's radio cackled loud enough for me to hear.

She held her hand up as she answered the call. "Go 402." She replied picking up the mic.

"Sergeant we have a body drop about a mile from your location north up Rt. 602." The voice on the other side of the radio explained. "Think you can come check this out?"

"On my way." Karrin said hanging up the microphone and turning back to me. "Sooner or later they will both turn up Molly." She said. "The old man loves his family too much not to and dirt bags can't stay hidden forever. When either does we will catch them."

"Okay Murphy." I said and she smiled before driving away to respond to her call. I saw her toss a magnetic police light on top of her car as she turned back toward the entry gate and they waived her straight through without even needing to resort to the siren.

I put the key back in the ignition and was about to leave as well when what Karrin said struck me. She was right. Ishmael did indeed love his family. In fact all that he was doing was for the sake of his family and to get back at those who had taken some of it from them. It made no sense to me then that he would be all that far away from them now after returning home. Maybe what I needed to do was stick around a bit and see if he showed up now that the police had gone. Like I said it was not like I was going to go break and enter to search the museum again tonight. One such crime per week I decide was my likely limit.

I waited maybe ninety minutes, wishing I had a book, or for that matter than Harry's car radio worked but of course that was not to be. At the end of that time when my mind had just about convinced me this was a fool's quest, the door to the Rothstein house opened up and the silhouette of Rabbi Ishmael Rothstein was framed by the light of the doorway. This lasted only a mere instant until he pulled the door closed behind him and began to shuffle his way down the sidewalk.

Well Murphy was right, he had been hiding somewhere close, probably with a sympathetic neighbor, while the police searched his house for him and then Ishmael had returned once they were gone. But the fact that it was dark and he, dressed in his rabbi clothes no less, crossed the street and entered the pool construction area was enough proof for me that he was about to call up another golem. I felt stupid for not having thought this would be a perfect place to hide a large pile of dirt. As I had no way to call Murphy I guess this left only me to have to deal with the situation and stop him, first by talking sense to him I hoped, and if that approach failed through force.

One advantage of having a wizard's reaction to modern technology is that the dome light in Harry's car had burnt out long ago and had never been replaced. This meant there was no obvious light appearing on the street to signal to Ishmael that someone had gotten out of a car to follow him. I cut across the road to the worksite as well and carefully made my way through the piles of dirt and construction materials looking for the old man without making too much noise. After maybe five minutes I was drawn toward the sounds of a shovel striking earth and knew I had found my quarry.

In the story of the Golem of Prague the rabbi and his assistants had molded the clay they collected by hand into the shape of a man. Rabbi Rothstein was a more practical and smarter individual, using the advances in technology over the previous four hundred years to make this same job much easier and faster. Rather than getting his hands dirty and molding the body by hand, Ishmael was instead shoveling dirt into a human shaped mold he had made from scraps of wood here on the worksite. The simplicity and cunning of this plan assured that no one would likely even note the extra piles of dirt Rabbi Rothstein had placed here, and his mold, if broken down into smaller pieces, would look like trash items waiting to be hauled away.

I watched him for a few minutes debating with myself if I was justified in preventing him for completing his work. It was not like he had gone out seeking to cause trouble among innocents. These skinheads had come after him and his family and he had merely defended himself in the appropriate manner available to him. Had he picked up a gun they would likely be just as dead but that was not his way. Instead he used the weapons built from his faith rather than those ones that had been used against his people. I could see situations in which my father might do the same to protect his family. Therefore I was very conflicted by all of this.

In the end my decision actually came down to two factors. First, I had promised Harry to look after things while he was gone. While this situation was not something he had likely envisioned when he gave me this order, or that I would assume the mantle of magical protector for the city of Chicago, I still felt I owed it to him to try and live up to the example he set. I know face with what I had seen and learned he would not have sat back and done nothing. That was not Harry's way.

Second I had promised to help Karrin with this case and that meant preventing any more deaths if I could help it. She believed in the system, and while my faith in it was not as strong as hers, I also knew from experience how a personal justice system of right and wrong was not necessarily the correct course either. I had done this myself and because of that now Harry was living under my Doom. If I did not stop Ishmael then maybe someone he loved would be placed in a bad position as well and he would never be able to forgive himself. I owed it to all of them I guess to not let them make my mistakes.

He scooped the last shovel full of his dirt into the mold and began to pat it down hard. I was not too worried about the shovel in his hand, figuring I could stay outside of striking distance, but I needed a reasonable plan of what to do if he did not stop when I asked him to. I did not want to use force, but I really did not see that I had much of a choice if he would not bow to reason or to fear. The trick I guess was to grab his attention with something dramatic and make him stop and think.

"Fuego!" I yelled while emerging from the shadows of another dirt pile and firing my summoned ball of flame at him. As I had hoped my voice had caused him to pause with his shovel raised and my ball of flame smacked into the tool hard enough to explode like fireworks, sending sparks dancing and making him drop the implement at his feet.

"You!" He said as his eyes adjusted and noted me stepping fully into the moonlight.

"Ishmael I cannot let you kill anyone else." I said trying to be calm and to project this feeling at him as well. Unfortunately I could sense he was filled completely with anger at the moment so my waves bounced away without any effect.

"I do not think of you as an enemy Molly so I would ask you to stay out of these affairs that do not concern you." He said trying to be rationale with me as well.

"They do concern me when I have had two of your golems chase me now for two nights in a row." I said hoping he would realize through my story the dangers he put pure innocents in through his actions, and when I say innocents I specifically mean cute, perky, high school wizards.

"Collateral damage is an unfortunate part of every war." He said well rehearsed and without feeling.

"What war?" I asked. "The war has been over for sixty years! Almost everyone who fought in it is dead and their souls have either gone on to peace in Heaven or are burning in torment in Hell. Let it go before you end up with this last group Ishmael I beg of you!"

"You might think this were true." He said quietly. "You remind me of my wife Molly when she was you age. Like you she too was so full of energy, though I think piss and vinegar would also be an apt description. When she died I burned every photo I had of her, every one that ever existed I thought." He made a weird movement with his hands while he was talking. I thought perhaps he might be casting a spell but I did not feel any draw of magic around him and then his hands settled down again.

"Do you know that after I had done all of this to harden myself I ended up finding a picture of her in the one place I could not destroy it?" He said with a tear streaming down his face.

I immediately understood where he was speaking of. "It is in the Holocaust Museum isn't it?" I asked knowing I was right even before he nodded to confirm this.

"Yes, there is a picture of the concentration camp women being forced to toil for the Nazi's war effort." He said. "My wife is among them staring up at the camera; staring right at me even." He said. "I had thought I would never have to look upon her staring at me in judgment ever again once I started down this course. She is in Heaven and I, well let's just say I will never join her there because of the things I have had to do in this life. But even from Heaven her eyes judge me even in death and they do not like the man I have been forced to become."

"Then stop this." I pleaded. "Be the man she wanted you to be and let this all go."

He looked at me. "I can't." He said. "That would mean putting myself first. My life is not worth the millions of others."

Huh? Okay I was confused but I needed to keep him talking. As long as he was talking he was not making a walking pile of homicidal dirt and that seemed to me to be a good thing when everything was considered.

"Ishmael, God forgives us if we ask him for it." I said trying to reach the religious core in him.

"No Molly." He replied. "Your God, the one of the New Testament, forgives. My God is the one of the Old Testament. He demands an eye for an eye." His tears dried up and his face hardened. Okay, I screwed up by calling upon religion. I guess it was down to resolution.

"I still cannot let you do this Ishmael." I said balancing my stance as if I were getting ready to attack with magic.

"And why do you think you could stop me?" He asked with a smile way too confident in my opinion of the current situation.

"I can stop you because it was I who destroyed your fourth golem last night." I said hoping to set him back a bit. I did not have a piece of the new golem he was building or a handy violin for that matter but he did not need to know that. He only had to realize that I may not be bluffing about my abilities to counter him.

"Really?" He said with wonder. "I felt its disruption and death which was unlike the others. I must admit that is truly impressive Molly. Even the Wizard Emperor Rudolf the II was unable to defeat such a creature. You are truly someone to be respected for your abilities at so young an age." He said with an obvious sense of pride. Damn it this was like I had to fight my own grandfather! I hated this.

"Thank you." I said hoping I had intimidated him enough.

"But your statement had two minor flaws in it." He said with that exact look the villain always gets right before he springs his trap. I wanted to edge backwards but that would make me seem weak.

"And those would be?"

"Well the first is that you assume you can change my resolve on this matter." He said and held up a hand to prevent my protest.

"And the second error was that you thought it was my fourth golem you destroyed last night, probably because you have counted the corpses each has left." He said. "Actually that one was my fifth creation, and the one here is my sixth." He said pointing down to the mold of dirt he had just filled. "You did not know about my first one."

Ever get that feeling you just really screwed up and missed an absolutely key detail?

"Seize her." Ishmael commanded and before I could move two wet, cold, but immortally strong hands wrapped themselves around my arms pinning me in such a way that I could not move to cast a spell toward Ishmael even if I wanted to. On the other hand I could launch fire at the golem holding me, but I had seen the minimal impact my most powerful spell would have on a creature such as this so that was not a viable option either.

"Your first one huh?" I said noting this one was just a little taller than the other two I had seen and fought with.

"Indeed." He said. "I made him from all the dirt at Jonathan's grave. It was the only way to move it all without leaving evidence. Once we got here though I had it shed enough to make the other five while I kept this one around for unexpected emergencies. It seems like I made a good choice in keeping him as backup would you not agree?"

Yeah I guess I would have to if by unexpected emergency you include cute apprentice wizards. I tried to squirm a little bit to see if I could work myself free but as I did the creature's grip tightened and I knew my upper arms were going to have handprint like bruises on them in the morning. "Okay, after my careful evaluation I would have to admit that you did make a pretty good choice." I said.

"I am glad you approve." He said without smiling but neither was his anger directed at me. "Now if you can behave yourself I will allow you the rare treat of watching me instill this being with a life of its own. Even you must admit that is not something you see every day."

I was immediately reminded that I had told my English Literature teacher I wanted to _read_ Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. I certainly never wanted or expected to find myself living within the story and watching a poor demented old man give life to something that should better remain dead. If this was going to be an example of how my school choices were going to come back to haunt me then I was going to have to be really careful picking my college courses next year. Basket Weaving 101 would probably have me facing off with some mad Indian snake charmer! Have I mentioned yet today just how much God hates me?

"I read the Katz Manuscript." I said which was not quite technically true but close enough in this case. "Therefore I know you require harmonics in order to give this creature life. I can sing or hum and throw off your chants Ishmael." I threatened.

"And then I would have to order my creation to shove his arm down your throat to stop you." He replied without malice. "How would your unfortunate and unnecessary death help your cause?" He asked rhetorically.

"Ah good point." I said. "Okay I will just be standing over here quietly." I said hoping inspiration would get me out of this mess.

"I knew you would see things my way." Ishmael replied. "I will let you go once number six finishes his mission. I really do like you Molly and I would have liked us to have been friends. But I cannot let you inadvertently destroy my life's work because you just do not understand."

"Then explain it to me." I said. "Tell me about Simon Wiesenthal's mission for you."

That got his head to shoot up and look at me. "You know more than I gave you credit for. If I thought you would possibly use that information I would have to kill you. Now please, I need to concentrate to wrap number six's will under my own. Golems can be incredibly dangerous to their maker and those around them if you lose control and I have no desire to experience this first hand."

Neither did I so I stayed imprisoned and quiet as I watched him perform the ceremony that Mr. Goldman had earlier highlighted. The major difference was of course hearing the harmonic chanting. I could not record any of this here even if I had the notion too, which I do not since I do not need to be remembered as the next Katz Manuscript author. In fact since the words were spoken in Yiddish or Hebrew and contained sounds that I am not sure the English alphabet has letters for, I will merely state he circled the body seven times chanting and then stood by the head.

The good rabbi reached into the keriah in the cloth over his heart and pulled forth a picture of his grandson Jonathan, in fact it appeared to be a wallet sized copy of the same college yearbook photo in the police file. Still continuing his chant the old man plunged this picture right into where the heart of the creature would normally reside. There was a flash of blue magic-like fire as the photo was consumed and as Ishmael retracted his hand the body seemed to heal itself, its form taking on Jonathan's appearance in the process, and the eyes of the golem came open.

The creature pulled itself from the mold and stood before its creator. I noted that its mouth moved as if trying to speak but no words came out as this was beyond such a being's ability.

"Feel the magic that caused your death." Rabbi Rothstein spoke to the creature obviously referring to the spell that had been used against his grandson. I did not know if this was a mystical connect created by infusing the picture or if the magic from the deceased body had leaked into the soil but the golem's eyes took on a hard and determined look to them. He seemed to sniff at the air as if seeking the scent.

The old rabbi drew a small penknife and carved familiar letters and numbers in the creature's left arm while it sought the scent. "Go now my creation." Ishmael commanded. The creature looked once more at him and then bound away.

Ishmael seemed drained by this experience and came over and sat down on the pile of dirt next to me. He slipped the penknife back into his pocket and looked up at me. "Well wizard how does Jewish faith compare to your wizardly powers?" He asked nearly gasping for breath.

"Impressive." I said. "That concentration camp number you carved into the creature's arm, I assume it is yours?" I asked.

He smiled at me. "You are very bright Molly. Yes that was my eternal gift from my jailors. I need something personal of mine to keep my control over the creature until it completes its mission and thanks to my Nazi hosts this number is about as personal as I have."

"I understand." I said. "We wizards use true names."

"I had heard such but those would be of limited value in my case since golems cannot talk."

"Good point."

He sat there regaining his strength for another ten minutes of silence and I, well I just stood there because I had a small mountain holding me hostage. Finally with a sigh and a deep breath Rabbi Rothstein regained his feet and started his slow meandering walk toward home. The golem holding me, like a faithful puppy, fell into place two paces behind him.

"I assume you will not make a nuisance of yourself at my son's home?" He asked.

"Does that mean you are considering letting me go from this giant compost heap?"

"I was until you said that." He chuckled. "Now I am thinking you have a little too much spirit to take that kind of chance."

"Well then I guess I have no choice but to be a polite guest."

How come in gated communities before nine o'clock at night they roll up the streets and no one sees a cute girl being dragged along by a six foot mud monster at the command of a crazy old rabbi? Do these types of things happen in these types of neighborhoods so often that they become commonplace to the neighbors? If that is true why the heck is there a waiting list to get into these places?

As we came around the last pile of dirt between us and the house, I saw Ishmael stiffen and then stop in his tracks making the golem holding me do so as well. "Oh no!" He said but I could not see what he was looking at as he was standing in the way.

Surprisingly, and with more dexterity than I had seen him display since the incident at the Holocaust museum, Ishmael began to run, okay hobble pretty quickly toward the Rothstein residence. Of course the golem matched his pace but as we got closer I could see what it was that had the old man concerned. A yellow taxi was parked in the front of the house, the family's minivan was missing, and the door to the home was standing wide open and chillingly inviting. Something in this picture was certainly not right and the taxi made me suspect I knew what.

The old rabbi entered with the pair of us right behind to find the house in shambles. There had been some sort of scuffle in the living room and it looked like a couple of broken dishes in the kitchen as well. Ishmael called out names, I assume for Jonathan's parents and fiancé, but no one answered. Only after searching every room in the house did we return to the living room where he found a note had been taped onto the television for him to find.

I of course could not read it because of the way he held it and based upon the look on the old man's face I was not going to ask what it may have said. He broke into angry sobs and collapsed upon the couch crumpling the paper saying softly "They have taken them all from me again." With the cab sitting outside I was pretty sure who the 'they' were he was referring to.

"Ishmael, what happened to them?" I asked reminding him I was here.

He turned to look at me. "That Nazi bastard took them and is holding all three hostage and will kill them tonight unless I turn over…" He suddenly realized what he was going to say and stopped.

"Look I know you are hiding a watch." I said putting the pieces together, though I still had a lot of logical gaps. "Just give it to them and rescue your family!"

"You may know about the watch but you couldn't possibly know what it is if you suggest this course of action." He said.

"Then tell me."

"I can't." He replied. "To keep it safe I need to ensure these bastards are dead. I always admired how you Catholics seek a final forgiveness right before you die. I think I will do that too."

"Ishmael you do not have to die." I pleaded and struggled against the golem's strength without breaking free. "I can help you and we can find your family."

He was not listening but had instead reached down and picked up a candlestick, part of a menorah in fact and showed me the blood drying on it. "No Molly, this is war child. Soldiers die. My time has come." He said putting the partial candlestick down.

"I want you safe and tucked out of the way. I also do not want you interfering in what I have to do." He said getting up and moving over to the large wall-sized bookshelf in the room. Like a bad horror movie he pulled on a secret latch and opened a doorway, revealing a small hidden bedroom beyond. There were a few candles but he did not bother to light them.

"You will be safe in here." He said commanding the golem to put me inside. "We Jews remember the past and know how to make such rooms to hide from the Gestapo like tactics of today's police." He said explaining how the two searches had failed to locate him. "Someone will be by in a day or so to let you out. There is food and water for a week just in case." He said and then the golem pushed the door closed sealing me inside. I heard a few more pieces of furniture being moved and placed against the hidden door to prevent my escape as well.

I heard him chant again in prayer and then command his remaining golem off on another mission to seek the writer of the note. I guess one such creature chasing was not enough, he wanted two to ensure success. Even alone in the dark I could not blame him.

"Pray for me Molly." Ishmael said at last whispering through a small crack in the bookshelf to allow for quiet communication with those who may be hiding inside.

"I will." I replied without malice.

And then he was gone I was alone, in small dark room, a prisoner because of my own foolishness at not calling Murphy when I saw Ishmael. People would die tonight. There was no doubt about it. And all because I had not proven to be the wizard Chicago had needed me to be.


	19. Chapter 19

**Axis and Allies**

**_Thursday Evening _**

**_Chapter 19_**

I sat alone in the darkness and the well of self pity I had created for who knows how long. Time tends to drag on in those moments and I really did not care too much to try and record it any further than I had to. I know there are some of you who think that I should have screamed in rage or come up with some clever means to escape, but let me please remind you that ain't me. It is another wizard you are thinking of; the real Harry Dresden.

I can't call up blasts of flame or small tornados like Harry can. This blocked wall would no more have deterred him than one of those paper sliding doors in traditional Japanese homes. But for me this was as effective a prison as the real thing would be. I had pushed against the door with my whole body and it had resisted everything I was capable of throwing at it physically.

Maybe I could set fire to the wall or the bed, but I was pretty sure that this type of action was not going to improve my overall situation. Hoping that fire trucks responded and pulled me free before I died of smoke inhalation was not a good bet in my book, not when this ever observant community had never witnessed the half dozen golems that had wandered through over the past week or so.

And as far as magic went, my type of sensitive magic was just not suited for this situation. There was no one nearby to try and subtly convince to come to my aid like some James Bond film. And while I could put up an impressive veil, sitting here invisible in the dark did not offer me any additional benefit that I could come up with that made it worth the effort to cast the spell. The great Harry Dresden's apprentice had been soundly beaten and imprisoned by an old rabbi and a pile of mud.

"Molly are you in here?" Murphy's voice rang out loudly, though the words were slightly muffled by the barrier.

"Murphy I am in here?" I screamed through the wood. "I am behind the big bookcase."

"Yeah that would explain the coffee table wedged hard under the shelves and into the floor." She said back. I then heard some grunting and groaning but nothing seemed to change. "Okay that is really stuck Molly. I am not going to be able to push it out of the way to free you."

"That is okay Murphy." I said resigned to my fate. "Ishmael's family was kidnapped…"

"Molly, do me two favors…" Murphy interrupted me.

"What?"

"One, shut up and let me concentrate!" She said.

"And the second?"

"Get back from the door."

Just the way she said those last words, calmly, way too calmly, provided me with a sense of urgency that a more urgent order would likely not have. Those who know Murphy know the calm before the storm is the far more dangerous situation than when she is raving or screaming. For me at that moment it meant scampering to the corner of the bed to get as far away from the door as I could.

For thirty seconds there was no noise, no sounds of preparation for moving the table such as dragging something to leverage the piece of furniture out of the way or noisy blows striking on the table with a large, hard, blunt object. There was instead only silence, real silence, broken only by my own shallow and anticipating breathing. And then there was just the indescribable sound of an entire forest being decimated by an earthquake.

After a moment the hidden door slid open and light from the living room beyond flooded into the little secret room. Karrin stood smiling at me as she began sliding her shoes back on her small feet. I stepped out and saw the remains of a two inch thick coffee table made from lacquered redwood now in two very nice split pieces. I looked from the table remains back to five foot tall Karrin, and then back to the table pieces and then back one last time to Murphy who now had her shoes back on.

"Jumping side kick." She said noting my confusion with an impish smile of pride at my shock. "You learn it as a yellow belt."

"Yeah, I was wondering when I could schedule my next lesson." I said looking once more at the table and what she had done to it. The physics of such force was impressive.

"You said something about Ishmael's family being kidnapped?" She asked me to refocus my attention away from the damage she was capable of inflicting and to the more pressing current problems.

"Right." I said. "He took them. The last skinhead was here and apparently captured them and left a note demanding a pocket watch from Ishmael for their return. The skinhead left in their minivan and Ishmael sent his last golem out after them." I said.

"A pocket watch?" Murphy asked. "Like an antique? This has all been about a simple robbery?"

"No, but I do not know exactly what is so special about the watch and why so many people want it." I said. "Obviously the Nazis want it and this is probably the object Ishmael was sent here to protect based upon the data in your conspiracy theory."

"Then what were you doing in the closet?"

"Ishmael had his golem put me in there. He did not want me interfering or getting hurt. He expects to die and does not want me screwing it up for him." I explained. "Which by the way, how did you know I was here?"

"I didn't know it at first." She said. "Remember that body drop call I got when we were talking earlier?" I merely nodded my head. "Well the victim, who suffered a single round shot to the back of the head at close range, had no ID on him so we had to run fingerprints. It turns out he was an immigrant cabdriver or that is what the folks over at Customs and Border Patrol have on his file."

"Based on his occupation and what you said earlier about the skinhead driving by that was enough for me call his employer who confirmed he was on duty but had not been answering his calls for service. The dispatcher figured he had fallen asleep or something."

Since all the cabs have GPS units for tracking where they are and who is closest to a pickup request they gave me the vehicle's current location which I of course recognized as the same address as on the warrant I am carrying. I raced back here and saw Harry's car had not moved from when we had talked so I knew you had gotten into some sort of situation after I left. The most likely scenario was here at this house. Since the door to the house was open and the room inside showed signs of a struggle I figured I better check it out and see if anyone was hurt."

"Which is how you came to this point in having to rescue me." I said not completely hiding the fact I was disappointed in myself that this had been necessary. She of course picked that up immediately.

"Molly, you are facing off against a group of ex-con skinheads with a propensity toward violence and firearms, some sort of super secret Mossad spy ring, and only you know what the hell types of spooky magic stuff that I can't even comprehend." She said. "Really, not trying to lend you any false confidence but I think perhaps you are being just a tad too hard on yourself at the moment." She smiled.

Okay, well when she put it like that. But still. "Harry would never…" I started and she interrupted me.

"You're not Harry Molly. Stop comparing yourself. For too many years I lived in my dad's shadow too. He was a great cop, one of the best. I learned that living up to such things is an impossible situation." She said. "Besides I am not all that sure Harry would have done any better in figuring out what the heck is going on here than you have. And sure as hell he would be sporting a lot more injuries than you are."

Okay that part was true. Harry did tend to confront things more directly and that had not always been the best course of action for his body. I mulled over what Murphy was saying. Maybe I had not done too badly in this case after all.

"So let me get an APB out for a possible kidnapping." Murphy said. "If I can get all the Chicago cops looking for the Rothstein's minivan then perhaps we can recover the family still alive and before number five meets up with Ishmael and his mysterious watch."

"I can help you with that!" I said with inspiration. I grabbed up the blooded candlestick. "If you can get me back to Harry's apartment before the blood on this dries and flakes away I can make you a charm that will lead you right to the family, or at least the one whose blood is on this thing."

"We will take my car." She said. "I can have you there in twenty minutes with lights and sirens."

"No." I replied. "I will follow you in Harry's. I will need it to go after the golems or Ishmael while you are rescuing the family and dealing with their captor."

"Molly that is too dangerous." She said not happy with the plan I was offering. "I am the cop here remember. Going after the murderer is my line of work not yours."

"Murphy we have no choice. The family is innocent and they are the ones in the most direct danger right now. They need a cop to rescue them, not a wizard apprentice." I explained. "On the other hand bullets have not done so well against the other golems we have seen and being a wizard, even merely an apprentice wizard, I might be able to come up with something from the 'spooky' realm that is more effective."

She still looked unconvinced. "Murphy we each have our own talents. Let's use them the best way possible and do what we are both good at. Like you said we are up against some pretty big time foes!"

"Alright." She finally agreed. "I will run with lights and sirens. You can take Harry's car and stay right behind me." That was asking a lot from the Blue Beetle but I agreed and we left the house and headed for our respective cars. In less than two minutes we were racing through the city back toward Harry's apartment.

I did happen to catch a glance of the time on one of those bank clocks on the street corner as we passed. It was only nine fifteen. I had not been trapped in the room for all that long. The problem was that after midnight tonight the alignment with the Outer Gates Carlos had mentioned would begin again. Whatever the Nazis wanted the watch for, this timepiece would become vital once those twelve bells had finished tolling.

Carlos was waiting patiently outside Harry's door as we both pulled up and parked in front of the apartment. I was happy to see him and he had the wards open and ushered us immediately inside merely based solely upon the serious looks we were both wearing as we got out of the cars and headed his way without a word of greeting.

"I take it there is some sort of emergency?" He asked.

"Murphy, can you bring Carlos up to date on what has happened?" I asked showing her the candlestick as a reminder that I had very immediate business to attend to and did not need the delay or the distraction of a conversation she was quite capable of conducting without me being present.

"Go kid." She said taking a seat on Harry's couch while Carlos straddled his traditional chair once more. "What do you know about Nazi's and golems?" She asked as a start to their conversation.

I went immediately down to the subbasement and started gathering the tools and supplies that I needed for the detection spell. I lit the Bunsen burner on the desk once more and started the required distilled water boiling before heading over to Harry's collection of crystals and selecting one, one that had a nice yellow tint and looked a bit like amber, and brought it back to the warming concoction.

I tied a string around the crystal to allow it to move freely then used a handy scalpel to scrape the flaking blood and the one last drop of coagulating crimson liquid and dipped this refuse into the now boiling water as well. Finally I held my hand over the brew, using the string to dip the crystal into the mix like a fisherman bobbing his line in a pond. I closed my eyes for concentration and focused upon seeing the three members of Jonathan's family in my mind's eye then summoned the magic to me and cast the seeking spell.

I opened my eyes and witnessed the crystal build a small glow within itself that had not been there moments before. Satisfied with this result I ran back up the stairs to see that Murphy and Carlos were about to come down after me, their conversation obviously over and Carlos now looking as concerned as Murphy was with our current situation.

"Murphy, hang this from the review mirror of your car." I directed. "When you are headed the correct way and getting closer to the family the glow will increase. If you go the wrong way it will get dimmer. You should have no trouble locating them."

"So it's like some sort of magical game of 'hotter and colder.'" She replied catching on instantly.

"Exactly." I said nodding and she took the crystal from me and was out the door without another word. In less than fifteen seconds her car roared to life and wheels screeched as she took off to do the types of cop things that she does best.

"You know we wizards prefer our skills not be compared to children's games." Carlos scolded me lightly.

"So punish me." I said then realized it was a Warden I had said that too. That is sort of exactly what they did for a living, and what some seemed to live for. "Wait, scratch that." I laughed at his raised eyebrow.

"We can talk about that later." He smiled back. "But right now Murphy said you have two golems running around free and I guess we need to track those things down and destroy them?"

"No."

"No?"

"No." I said again. "The golems and their targets are a sideline to the bigger events. We need to either find Ishmael Rothstein or get back to the Museum of Science and Industry and try and find the pocket watch that everyone except him is after." I said. "Once midnight gets here and your alignment begins everyone will want it and somewhere in the damn museum is where the damn thing is located. Unfortunately it is hidden from magical detection somehow." I said showing him the seeker charm I was still wearing. "But I still need to grab a few things extra things before we go."

"Hurry up, I will go get Mister and put him in the car." He said making me pause.

"Mister? Harry's cat?" I asked.

"If this is as important as you are saying then I am bringing him along just in case I was right about him and his Egyptian heritage." He explained.

"Whatever you think is best, but if he gets carsick you are cleaning up after him." I said and then poured out my school backpack on the table. Once it was mostly empty I went back to the subbasement to take a quick inventory and toss some things into the carrying pack that I might need. Harry tended to keep a pouch of such things also so it must not be such a bad idea.

I grabbed two sticks of chalk and made sure my two potions, energy and enhanced senses were in the side pouches where I had left them. I also gathered up a five pound bag of salt, and then remembered the pepper shaker I had in my skirt pocket and tossed that in too figuring it would make a decent last resort projectile if I needed one.

But none of these were going to be all that effective against a golem I realized. I looked around one more time and noted a metal container of liquid on one shelf that my eyes had passed over a dozen times in the past few days. There was a chance that this might provide my magic a bit of enhancement under the right conditions, but the current container was not going to be useful for that type of purpose. Thankfully Harry keeps a supply of plastic and metal sports bottles for his potions as well and these would suit my needs just fine. I grabbed one of the latter, filled it, and placed that in the opposite side pouch on my backpack and then went back upstairs.

Carlos came almost staggering back into the apartment with bloody cat scratches along both of his arms. The look on his face was priceless though he was obviously pleased with himself that he had won the battle in getting Mister into the car.

"The thing that only looks like a cat is now in the car." He said. "I almost wanted to use my wizard sight on it but I'm afraid of finding out what type of hellspawn it actually is." He said showing me the scrapes along both of his arms like some little child looking for mommy to tell him it would all be better. I had to admit they were forming some nasty red welts and while some guys looked good with scars, these scratches were not all that appealing on Carlos. His hand rested comfortably on his sword and this made me pause for a moment of further consideration.

Over in an umbrella stand by the door, among two such common items, sat Harry's cane sword and a Japanese katana. This second weapon seemed very plain in appearance but I knew this was hardly the truth of the matter. The weapon was called _Fidelacchius_, or Faith, and had, until not that long ago, been carried by my honorary uncle Shiro. Like my father he had been one of the three Knights of the Cross and this sword, imbued with one of the three nails used by the Romans to crucify Jesus, had been proudly carried by him up until the moment he died and passed it to Harry to find its next owner.

I wondered tentatively if I dared to place my hands on such a weapon. Dad had let me hold his own sword once, _Amoracchius_, meaning Love, when I had been a little girl and his duty as a knight had caused him to miss my birthday. I was only eight years old then and I had been crushed. But he had woke me up long after the others in the house were asleep that night and took me into his private room and told me that he was sorry for having to miss my very important day.

It was then that he showed me his sword and let me hold it, explaining that its name was Love and that while he believed God had imbued the blade with his divine power, it was the love of dad's family that gave him the strength to wield it. It was my love that brought him home safely when God called upon him. I went back to sleep that night with a new sense of respect and love for my father who loved his neighbors just as much as he loved his family, even a spoiled little eight year old daughter; enough to miss her birthday to rescue and defend a few of them he had never met before.

I noted I had instinctively held my hand out toward _Fidelacchius_, but stopped just shy of placing my palm and fingers upon its grip. I certainly had faith in God, being my father's daughter and knowing all he had done in God;s name one could only have faith. But that being said I knew I did not yet have faith enough in myself to take up the sword. I pulled my hand back slowly as Carlos watched my indecision. "Perhaps you and I will talk when this night is over and I have stopped the bad guys." I said to the sword. It of course said nothing in response to me.

I turned around and decided to make two quick phone calls and once that was done knew it was time to leave. "Let's go Carlos." I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door leaving him to lock up and reset the wards. It could just be me, but I though right before my eyes had left it the sword had shined just a little brighter knowing I wanted to one day be worthy of claiming it.

I got behind the driver's seat, ignoring any injured machismo Carlos might display at being driven around by a woman. That was just tough. Harry had left me the car and I knew where we were going. Carlos opened the door tentatively and got into the passenger seat.

I knew Carlos had faced off against some pretty terrible things in his time, but the look he gave Mister, and the one he got from the cat in return seemed to indicate that the Warden was not looking eagerly to continuing the battle where the two had left off. Thankfully Mister wore one of those grins that proclaimed he at least knew who the alpha male in the car was.

We drove downtown in near silence. I do not know what had Carlos quiet, maybe Mister, but I was running through events in my head and trying to think of how best to stop these golems beyond the course I was on. The key was obviously Ishmael so getting to him was the most important thing I could do right now. It was obvious the creatures responded to his will based upon their shared tattoo. I assumed once they transferred this number to their victim, the last order they had been given, then the power animating them dissipated and they returned to the dirt I had seen at the crime scenes. Maybe if we scratched those numbers off the creatures would fail as well.

I told this to Carlos and he considered it, but pointed out the golems were unlikely to just stand there and let us take any form or eraser to their arms. They obviously had a self-defense command as well since they had attacked me twice when I had presented myself in opposition to their plans. He had his sword and might be able to remove a limb given the chance. I had nothing remotely similar so would have to be creative.

We pulled to the curve across from the Museum of Science and Technology; parking not being a problem in this business area at this time of night. I opened the door and got out, leaving it wide open so Mister took the opportunity to follow me out as well and then scampered off into the darkness of an alleyway while Carlos got out on his side. Thankfully, there was someone waiting for us on the museum steps as I had planned for.

"Curtis you made it." I said relieved at finding him here. "We need to go search the museum for an old man."

"Molly, you did not say you were bringing company along." Curtis said obviously a bit miffed. I knew he and Carlos had not hit is off all that well last time but I did not need some love triangle scene playing itself out right now. Leave that for vampires and werewolves in teen girl books if you please. I needed reliable help to make sure no one else died tonight, especially a young and perky high school apprentice wizard.

"Curtis he is a Warden." I said. "He is much more adept at battling things like this golem than you and I will likely ever be."

He looked at me strangely. "Tell me you do not love him." He said with a crooked smile.

"Carlos?" I asked. "Really we are just friends." I noticed the question made Carlos uncomfortable too but he chose not to speak up at all. The quick glance he shot my way before I answered though made me wonder if the Warden saw things somewhat differently.

I shook the thought from my head. That was all I need to be distracted trying to figure out some guy's emotions; that is if they even had them I mean. I promised myself that if I lived through the night I would be certain to send Carlos a note asking him to check this box if he wants to be my boyfriend. My mind seemed happy to accept this and let the matter drop.

"Alright then." Curtis said, the jealousy fading almost, but not quite completely, away. He began to turn and head for the door of the museum, bringing out his keys to unlock the building and alarms as he walked up the stairs. Carlos stepped between him and I and followed Curtis keeping his hand on his sword and in doing so leaving me to bring up the rear. Off in the alley Mister growled out a warning.

If you have never heard a gunshot by being on the receiving end it sounds very much like the angriest hornet in the world you will ever hear as it passes by; this one about four inches from my left ear as far as I could tell. Next came two rapid explosions of blood in Carlos's left shoulder as the bullet passed right the muscle, back to front, to eventually finish its journey as it slammed into the marble face of the building. Only after my senses had registered these two interrelated event did I actually hear the sound of the gunshot when the sound waves finally reached me.

I turned reflexively toward the noise, watching the Warden spin to his right, okay maybe a better description was that he was thrown, and fall to the marble steps. From behind a dumpster the fifth skinhead stood up holding what appeared to be a sniper rifle with hunting scope rather than the traditional Lugar his friends had all been carrying. The weapon was a bolt action and baldy chambered another round and began to site on the three of us once more when Mister charged across the street toward him with his kitty battle roar leading the way.

Like I have said, Mister is no normal tabby and seeing the beast charging toward him made the skinhead turn and fire his next shot off in the cat's direction. The round kicked up sparks on the asphalt about eight feet behind the cat and the skinhead tried to reload. Seeing he would not make it in time the Nazi dropped the gun as Mister leaped in his direction, his last defensive act to cross his arms before his face.

But the cat's target was not the Nazi. Instead Mister landed momentarily upon the top of the dumpster and then leapt away again at an odd reflective angle, sailing over the skinhead and slamming into the golem that now emerged silently behind his intended target. The combination of two inhuman growls meeting in combat was nearly deafening even from this distance.

Mister did not get the grip he had been hoping for on his opponent, his teeth unable to find purchase enough to support his weight. And while all four claws tore gouges of sod-like dirt from the creature's torso, the cat still fell to the ground and had to immediately scamper away before one of the golem's feet tried to squash him into the pavement.

Carlos's groan reminded me we had injured and I turned to see him on the ground clutching his shoulder in obvious pain as the dark crimson blood seeped through his fingers and onto the white marble steps. I looked at Curtis still dressed in his museum uniform, today with a white cotton polo, and immediately began to give order as Harry had taught me.

"Curtis tear up your shirt I need it for bandages." I said.

He looked shocked at my command and not sure he had heard me correctly. "My shirt?"

"Yes, I need bandages and your shirt fits the bill." I said very fast. "Off, rip, NOW!" I also pulled off Carlos's Warden cape but oddly enough whatever material it was made of was not easy to rip and neither did any of the blood seem to stick to it. This made it useless for my purposes.

Curtis jumped to comply and within ten seconds I had two large wads that I jammed right into the holes, god that made Carlos scream, and two more that I used to try and tie these wads securely in place. I also realized this would only work if he stopped moving his shoulder around, impossible to do in pain, so I had to rig a quick sling for the arm as well. That meant I had to lose my nice white Catholic schoolgirl blouse since taking Curtis's pants might be a bit extreme. Thank god I chose to wear one of my more conservative bras today. I noted Curtis staring at me in shock but decided not to take that as either a compliment or an insult based upon the current crisis situation we were in.

The whole first aid action took less than a minute and I turned to look back at the Nazi who was now scrambling to fend off and stay away from the golem's hands. Unfortunately the skinhead was backed against the wall with nowhere to go. Even another flying attack by Mister to the golem's back was not enough to distract the animated creature from getting his hands around his intended prey and start choking.

"Feuer!" Curtis called out from right next to me and his handful of napalm-like flame shot across the intervening distance to smack against the back of the golem just as the creature's hand wrapped around the skinhead's neck. The shock caused the creature to jerk, and I could have sworn I heard the distinctive sounds of bones breaking even at this distance. The golem released the Nazi to fall to the ground, his head hanging at an unnatural angle but his chest still trying to breathe and keep his body alive. The golem now stared at us, the new threat to it completing its mission, and began to charge our direction.

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"Because you battled and killed that one last night." He said. "I figured we had to destroy this one too."

The creature had closed a third of the distance and death was staring at us from its cold dark eyes.

"Um, no." I replied. "See that one attacked us last night because we attacked it and tried to keep it from its mission. Had we left it alone then after marking the Nazi's arm it would have become jus a pile of dirt again." I explained.

"So my attack on this one…"

"Yeah pretty much…"

"Well that sucks."

"Yep."

I looked quickly at Carlos and saw while his bleeding may be slowing because of the bandages he was not going to be much help for us at the moment. Curtis looked out of his element as well. Dad always said God will provide so I figured I would test that theory.

"Curtis you wouldn't just happen to be an Olympic trained fencer who decided to give up your quest for the gold to become a history major in Chicago by any chance would you?" I asked pointing to Carlos's sword with undisguised hope written on my face.

"Um… no." He said. "You must be mistaking me for my brother."

"Thought you were an only child."

"I am."

By now the golem was less than half a dozen paces from us and I still did not have a Plan A. Of course I always had the sometime reliable Plan B at my beck and call.

"Curtis?"

"Yes?"

"Run!"

I went left and he went right, and since he had been the one who had attacked the golem it went after him. This was good for me but not so good for him therefore I immediately reversed course and ran back to Carlos, drawing out his sword and grabbing my backpack still sitting on the steps. I also threw the Warden's cape over my shoulders for some form of brief modesty though I knew that a teenage girl in a cape and a bra wielding a sword was probably God using me to fulfill every fantasy geek's wet dream. Sooner or later the television cameras were going to show up I just knew it.

Curtis had put some distance between himself and the golem but the creature seemed determined and Curtis was just male and stupid enough to try and turn to fight. "Feuer!" He screamed again and this time his flame managed to dry up the creature's nose and make it fall away. If it even noticed this it did not seem to care.

"Um Molly a little help here?" Curtis called.

"I'm working it." I called back to him as I headed in his direction.

At that point the golem did something completely unexpected. It came to a stop and with both of its hands ripped a chunk of itself free from its stomach area, about the size of a basketball, and flung it directly at Curtis. Since the young wizard had stopped to ready another flame attack on the golem that was out of arm's reach this new assault literally caught him flat footed, smashing into Curtis's chest and knocking the wind out of him. He crashed to the ground on his back gasping for air. The golem was standing over him in seconds bringing his hands crashing down for a signature deathblow.

"Reflettum!" I screamed firing off my last shield charms and creating a turtle shell of protection around Curtis. The creature's fists met this shield and were bounced away without Curtis being hurt. But being mindless the golem just kept trying to strike at him and was slowly weakening the magic with every blow he landed.

By this time I had reached the creature and being not only the daughter of a Knight of the Sword, but currently the wizard protector of Chicago I swung Carlos's blade at the creature's arm to return it to inanimate dirt. Only I realized too late there is a lot more to swinging a sword than just…well…swinging a sword. The trick I realized as my blade flew harmlessly by the creature without hitting it is that you have to aim for where the target will be when your blade gets there, not where it was when you started. I bet that skill only takes a decade or so to master as well.

The shield was weakening so it seemed like Plan B was coming back to the forefront again. I backed a few steps away, getting ready to run and cast my own spell.

I drew in all the magic I could, realizing my one night of sleep had not been nearly enough. "Fuego!" I cried again. The ball of flame seemed slightly larger than my biggest so far but that might merely have been wishful thinking on my part. Anyway it flew straight and true and slammed into the golem, burning away half of one hip. It also drew the creature's attention to me just as the shield sparkled and failed.

I began to run and it chased me. Normally I can run pretty fast but I was exhausted and a little shaky on my feet. The only thing that kept me ahead of it was the fact that because it was missing part of its hip it wobbled quite a bit as it ran as well. Unfortunately I was not watching where I was going and ended up more or less trapped near where the Nazi had met his fate.

Thankfully Mister made his next appearance at this point, leaping on the wounded side of the golem to scratch away more dirt before jumping off and staying away from the muddy blow aimed at him. The cat scampered into the shadows again and the golem's eyes followed it.

"Molly run!" Curtis called right before his follow on spell. "Feuer!" He must have been tiring out too because his flame was pretty weak. It was just enough to get the creature's attention though and allow me to slip past and circle around it until I got back to my shirtless hero.

"Molly I have about reached my limit." Curtis said between gasps for breath. I of course could sympathize with that feeling completely.

"I know, me too." I said. "If I can get it to keep its arm still then I can hack the damn thing off."

"Do you have any shield's left?" He asked.

"Nope, why?"

"Damn, because you could use one to trip it then its arms would likely be pretty still and give you the shot you need." He said. "Do you have the strength to call one up?"

"Not at the moment." I said opening up my backpack.

"Um, don't think it is going to let you get in a quick nap to recharge your batteries."

"Don't need a nap." I said pulling forth a potion tube and making sure it was not the one with the eye printed on it. "I have something even better than a nap!"

I yanked off the wax cork and chugged down the cold Beast-based potion in three swallows. Curtis meanwhile was looking at me trying to figure out what I was up to. The golem was now only a dozen feet away and still closing but I could feel the magic starting to already reinvigorate my body at the cellular level with the energy it had been missing. What the hell. I reached over and kissed a rather surprised Curtis then pushed him behind me.

I made a weird yodeling battle cry at the golem. "Watch out world, it's time for Molly…Warrior Princess!" I said raising the sword over my head as the golem got only half a dozen steps from me.

"Reflettum!" I called upon my magic and formed a small shield in front of and at just above the golem's ankle level. It of course never saw it form and with its arms reaching for my neck and its weakened hip it had no chance to maintain it balance once it stumbled over this barrier. The creature's extended arms did catch and arrest the golem from falling on its face, but that left them locked tight and immobile for the crucial second I needed to bring Carlos's blade around and sweep all the way through the first and almost completely through the second appendage.

The blade was so sharp it had cut cleanly through the arms and had it not been for the momentary pull I would have thought I had missed it completely once again. The golem's head turned to stare at me in hatred once more and its mouth opened to make its infernal scream but it collapsed first back into a pile of dirt; the magic having fled its body.

"Damn Molly you killed another one." Curtis said in obvious admiration.

"Yeah I did, but there is at least one more golem out there still." I said. "We need to find Ishmael right now and get him to call these things off. Let's get Carlos up into the museum and call an ambulance, then you and I can go find the old man."

"Molly that is what I was trying to tell you." Curtis said. "I already searched the museum before you got here. There is no one inside. You friend Ishmael is not here."

That made no sense to me. Ishmael knew the Nazis wanted the watch and we both knew it was somewhere here in the museum, of course he knew exactly where it was I bet. It made no sense then that a man who loved his family as much as Rabbi Rothstein had to sacrifice himself to create golems to avenge his grandson's death would not be here to save those of his family who were still alive.

Then I remembered what he had said to me about admiring Catholic last rights in seeking forgiveness before we die. As a Jew, Ishmael would not have a priest he would go to for this. But from his story I knew there was someone else. His wife!

I realized immediately that I was at the wrong museum. "Curtis, get Carlos inside and call him an ambulance. Ishmael is over at the Holocaust Museum. Meet me over there once Carlos is taken to the hospital." I ordered and was racing down the steps with the white cape flapping behind me and the sword in my hand because I had not stopped to take the scabbard. I was certainly the teenage boy fantasy for an avenging angel tonight. I just hope I was not too late to save two old men's souls tonight as well.


	20. Chapter 20

**Axis and Allies**

Author's Note:

The following chapter touches upon subjects emotionally charged and of historical significance. In writing this chapter my intent was to respect the history and advance the storyline, not to degrade the memories of the events through fiction. I hope I succeeded.

**_Thursday Evening _**

**_Chapter 20_**

I am glad there are not night security guards assigned to the Holocaust Museum otherwise I would have had a damned hard time explaining both my attire and the nearly four foot long broadsword I was holding. Not to say I could not bluff my way past some bored male guard dressed like this, only that the result would not be what the White Council considered as keeping a low profile as we wizards were expected to.

There were doors on the building but they were never closed and the museum itself had no ceiling, in part because of the eternal flame burning within at the very center and providing the only illumination and in part to allow the natural wet and chilly weather to touch those who came within as a subtle form of remembrance of these events. Trudging in a soft rainy drizzle or after a light snow had fallen and brought near complete silence to the site gave the museum a surreal effect and brought home the solemn sense this place had been designed for. Its unnamed architect had been a genius in both its simplicity and its effect on the soul.

The museum lay out was in the design of a simple circle of marble upon which photos, most of them taken in fact by the Nazi captors, the rest by the allied liberators, were displayed to the left while the eternal flame flickered and cast shadows from the right. Visitors entered the museum and walked almost single file around the circular corridor seeing pleading and hopeless faces staring out at them. This made me wonder with what I knew of Chicago and the Nevernever if ghosts frequented this place feeding off the sorrow displayed on the walls and shared by the visitors.

I found Ishmael as I had known I would standing on the far side of the museum staring at what I assumed was the photo he described that contained the only remaining image of his now deceased wife. Tears ran unnoticed or unabashedly down his elderly face as he stared at the picture making him look much smaller than the proud man who had captured me just a few hours before. He did not even turn to notice my arrival and was unaware of me as far as I could tell as I paused to observe him before moving forward.

I wandered up quietly and respectfully next to him and slipped my hand into his own. It was at this touch of another living person that he finally recognized consciously that he was no longer alone and turned to look at me. And of course I did the one thing a wizard is never supposed to do. I looked him right back in the eyes. And in that moment we shared what we wizards called a soul gaze.

All of his pain, his pride, even his sense of righteousness flooded into me as we held each other's stare. I can't say that I enjoyed the experience, but I understood now. I understood it all, his entire life and why he had made the choices he did, just like these events he lived had happened to me; like they were my own memories. And from what Harry told me they would now be forever more.

I could have easily gotten bogged down in his memories, the life of a man in his nineties is certainly filled with enough to do that to you. But Harry had taught me to use my will and to focus when it was required, and now it was certainly required. I also felt what I can only describe as another presence, I assumed it was the part of Ishmael that was Rabbi Rothstein, the teacher, showing me what it was I needed to know.

I skipped quickly through his childhood and young adult and only briefly observed the day he and his family had been rounded up by the German soldiers in black uniforms who had come behind those wearing grey who had invaded and conquered his homeland. Most shocking among this sea of darkness of blonde beautiful men with guns was the single frumpy looking man in the red uniform who seemed in charge and responsible for the operation but who never took and active hand in any of their actions or the beatings that the black uniformed men performed. The man in red's face was terrifying in that I could see the actual madness of someone who had witnessed thing the mind was not prepared to comprehend burning brightly in his eyes.

"That is Doctor Ernst Schertel." The rabbi's voice, ghostly in volume, yet undeniably that of Ishmael's spoke to me in my mind. I do not know if the old man I was soul gazing had heard and understood my unspoken question for the man in red's identity or if perhaps it was information Ishmael had picked up years later and sent back through his memory to complete the picture of all I was seeing and all he had lived through.

Time flashed by again and I next found myself in a camp, aligned neatly in perfect military precision I noted at once. But another part of my mind, I can only assume my own and the part that understood magic saw what Ishmael had seen but never perceived. Overhead photos he would see look upon of the camps' layout along with his memories of walking paths within one told a completely different story than structures just constructed as an efficient location to commit mass genocide. The camp was built absolutely precise because it had been erected in the form of a magical rune, a very old one, Pagan in fact, but incredibly powerful in its magic gathering nature.

Stonehenge and many of the other well known Pagan sites like it had been built in harmony with the sun, the moon, and the stars. Historians thought them merely as calendars and religious sites for tracking special events like solar equinoxes, never understanding that this capability was a byproduct of the true function of the sites to focus the magical power generated in celestial alignments. They neatly tracked the solar equinoxes because those days provided the Pagan priests additional power, when the Winter Court and Summer Court were in perfect balance of power between them, not because those ancient wizards needed a calendar to know when to plant their crops. It would be like a historian today assuming the Merlin's astrolabe served the same purpose as the Farmer's Almanac.

But there were other megalith sites scattered throughout Europe and the world that had no astronomical alignment that any modern astronomer could deduce. Because of this historians and anthropologists denied the majority of these had any significance or were at best merely tombs built to honor fallen warlords and such of the Pagan era.

Those in touch with the magical world though could easily explain that astronomical events were not the only means by which magical energies were focused. Many of these unexplained or 'debunked' megalith sites actually were positioned at the intersection of magical Lei lines that crisscrossed the planet. And taking a cue from these ancient Pagan sites, the Nazis, under the guidance and direction of Doctor Ernst Schertel had positioned their concentration camps at these types of locations as well.

I was barely familiar with magical runes so could only see the one this camp formed was designed as a channel and that irregularly separated Lei lines ran from this camp over the horizon in all directs to the other such camps established throughout conquered Europe. And all these sites were connected to this one like spokes on a wheel by the eternal lines of magic that only Hitler's Zauberer-Staffel could see.

My memories, or rather those of Ishmael, jumped more years ahead. I felt my body had grown weak from too little poor food and too much hard labor. But I knew that I had to survive. I had to keep working hard, for those who slacked off, they went into the building from which no one returned. I knew that had been the fate of my parents weeks or months ago, time having long since blurred and the ache of grief trapped away deep within me with a promise only to be released at such a time when allowing myself to feel such things would not bring about my own death. For right now my purpose was simple; I had to survive. My parents had begged me to live through this nightmare existence. It was the last wish they had made of their son before being taken away. I had to honor their request to the best of my ability.

I remembered next the small accident I had, a mere stumble no less, as I was on a work detail. I remembered hearing my ankle snap, sounding much like a twig breaking, and then the sudden pain. I stumbled onward without falling but I kept walking, actually limping with each step, but fearful of showing I had been injured. The man next to me, older by a decade and with the wisdom of many more years in his eyes reached out his hand to steady me knowing my pain and my fear. And it was this action that drew the attention of the guard closest to me because prisoners were not allowed to touch each other on work details for fear they were passing makeshift weapons.

The guard grabbed my shoulder and yanked me away from the old man we called rabbi, though in truth I did not know if he was truly a teacher or merely had been granted this name in honor of his caring nature. The tug pulled me free and my ankle gave way completely so I fell to the ground. I held back the scream that bubbled in my throat, not wanting to admit to the injury and seal my fate. I was expecting to see the guard who had done this to me to be laughing like they all did when they beat us for working too slowly. But this guard's eyes were wide open in his own fear. He realized, as I now did as well, that his action had demonstrated my usefulness to the Nazis was at its end, and therefore so too was my life.

By design they did not send any of us to the grey stone building from which no one returned the next day. It was not an event that happened every day in the camp but instead at some regular schedule to which none of us understood. The part of me that was still Molly understood this was a temporal connection and restriction of the magic most likely, such as some spells could only be cast at night.

I had been excused from work details that next day and stayed in my assigned quarters, using the time, some strips of cloth ripped from my shirt, and two convenient sticks the rabbi had smuggled in from our assigned project yesterday to set my ankle straight and tie it off so I could walk. By the afternoon I was able to move effectively, stiffly and painfully I admit. I made a determined effort to pass the guard who had pulled me away and exposed my injury to the others, but he refused to look me in the face or acknowledge that I was still able to function. I also saw they were preparing the grey stone building to be used tomorrow.

Knowing my fate had been sealed I asked all those who shared the room with me when they returned from their day's labors if any remembered the date, for I had long lost track. One young boy who had just started to grow facial hair told me it was the twelfth of March, 1944. I slept that night knowing the thirteenth then would be the day I would die.

They marched the workers out the next morning like they did every day and I tried to form up in the line with them but a different guard noticed me and pulled me away from the group. I also tried to show him I could walk and therefore still labor for them but he only laughed and snapped one of the twigs with a jab of the butt of his rifle making me fall to the ground once more. This time I did not hold back the scream of pain for there was no purpose in denying it any further.

After the workers were marched away, and the guards dragged off the bodies of the one or two who had died in their beds the night before, the black shirts came for me and forty or so others they had selected. Some were injured and no longer able to work like I was. Some were new arrivals too old or infirm and barely able to walk or labor. And the rest were mothers with very young children, neither of which could survive without the other and so useless to the masters who ran the camp.

They lined us up to take us to 'the showers' where the guard told us we would be bathed and deloused. They had told this lie many times before and I could see that the most experienced in telling this tale, the performance of this duty was driving him mad as well.

We did not resist, there was no point or no means to do so. We went into the building that felt colder, far colder than any room should be on this unnaturally warm spring day. They had us all disrobe and enter into the main room where the showerheads were hung. The oldest among us, teased the children and told them stories of how they would one day run free in the grass when this war was over. If you closed your eyes and just listened to their words you would be calmed and believe them too. It was only when you opened your eyes and looked in theirs as they told this tale that you knew they understood the depth of their lie.

We stood there naked and waiting, no one knowing exactly what would happen for there had never been anyone of the detainees who had come out alive from this building to speak to and the black shirts would not do so either, even to mock us. But finally he emerged on a platform high above us and looked down at us with an ever greater gleam of insanity burning in his bloodshot eyes that matched his blood red uniform. Doctor Ernst Schertel of the Zauberer-Staffel had come to see us off.

"Jews of Europe." He began drawing our attention. I did not understand how he did it but he spoke flawlessly in my own language of Polish, but others heard him in Hungarian and Dutch too. The part of my mind that was my own and not reliving Ishmael's life knew this was a translation spell of some sort, a sensitive magic that I could likely perform naturally if I ever learned the proper process.

"You have perhaps heard that your kind faces the Final Solution; and extermination of your race because you are undesirable." He said. There had been such stories in the barracks, mostly from the newer inmates who had been brought in over time. "Like so many things this is a great lie hiding and even greater truth."

"We seek your destruction not because we find you lesser than us, but rather because of the power within you." He continued. "For the Third Reich to survive we must overthrow the old older. Not just of nations and governments which our armies have done successfully, but even the established order of the Gods themselves."

"You are called 'The Chosen People' by your God and your strength and faith gives him power that he in turn gives back to you as perseverance. The Third Reich has no such God willing to provide us the same symbiotic gifts." He said, his calm explanation wrapped in madness making my legs tremble as I listened to what he spoke calmly of. "Therefore we must create such a god for ourselves and to do so we require the divine spark that your god has given to each of you."

At that moment the noon bell began to toll and Doctor Schertel removed a brilliant platinum pocket watch from his coat, I knew this was the one I, Molly, was seeking, and began to wind it tight like any man might do quite naturally. However with each slow twist of the dial, I could feel my soul being slowly torn away from my body and pulled toward the watch. "I am truly sorry that this is not a painless process." He said as he kept winding the watch and I felt myself growing weaker and dying.

Standing there at the doorway of death my eyes could perceive things that I never had observed before. I saw the magical lines of power that all converged in this room. I knew them to be Lei lines but Ishmael was unfamiliar with that term. I also saw the pulse as each soul pulled from a body in this room was captured in the pocket watch as Schertel continued to wind it. More souls, appearing as glowing balls of light, were dragged along the Lei lines as well and also pulled into the watch. In camps all across Europe people were dying and their souls were being stored in the platinum watch.

As Ishmael, I closed my eyes ready to accept the death I could no longer resist when suddenly the pull stopped and my soul snapped back into place once more. I fell to my knees looking still toward the platform and saw that Doctor Schertel seemed as confused by this as I was. Perhaps one in four of us still in the room drew breath and those being mostly the children and their mothers who seemed to have the most to live for. He ordered us redressed and returned to our barracks for another ceremony on a future date while he went to find out what had happened.

Another future memory of Ishmael's intruded at this time and explained to me that a daylight bombing raid from the American 8th Air Force heading to Berlin had encountered heavy flak and dropped their bombs early near the Ravensbruck concentration camp causing the Red Shirt there to lose his focus on the spell. My own magical understanding took over at this point and concluded this had broken the magical circle required for the soul sucking spell I had witnessed and even experienced causing the process to stop everywhere at once.

Ishmael had been returned to his quarters expecting to be killed the next day but the very guard who had pulled him from the line and exposed his injury came into the barracks that afternoon when no one else was there. "If you wish to live then you must say nothing and follow me." He ordered and Ishmael did as directed and followed the guard.

I was placed with a new group of Jews just arriving at the camp and told that I was to never mention that I had been in another barracks or what had taken place in the presence of the red shirt or my life would be forfeit once more. He was also given a leather belt to better wrap around and secure his broken ankle so he could work with less visible discomfort. The Nazi then stared at me our now shared eyes one final time and departed. Ishmael would later learn that the guard had volunteered to transfer to fight the Russians, no longer capable of working in the camps, where he would eventually die many hundreds of miles from his German home.

Ishmael survived the war through his perseverance, and the remaining guards never discovered the deception, figuring he had been one of the soulless bodies taken to the crematorium. The guards fled once the Soviet Army closed in and based upon what he had personally observed the Soviets kept him alive to offer testimony at the war crimes trials after German surrendered. It was there that he met Simon Wiesenthal.

Simon had been a survivor of the camps as well and the two had talked about shared experiences. He too had seen the Red Shirt that stayed in the shadows at his camp but had thankfully never been forced to experience the events of near death that Ishmael had. But in talking the two also came to realize the true danger and the true horror that the magic of the watch symbolized.

As Ishmael had reminded me when we drove to this museum days ago, the human soul was not like normal magic. It did not drain away over time like my magical shield charms would. Souls were eternal and so would their power be if it could be contained, a role the watch obviously was built to perform. That meant hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions of souls were still trapped in this device waiting to release their power for anyone with the knowledge and skill to do so.

What Carlos had explained to me now also came flooding back. The White Council had not feared Schertel's experiments in making a mortal into a god because they had believed it was impossible for two reasons. First no human being could survive an influx of such power. But Carlos now believed the way around that was to take a being that had some other than human spark within it, a hybrid of mortal and immortal, and this would create a potential vessel strong enough to accept such power.

Secondly though the Council had determined that it was impossible to gather this level of power all in one place and store it long enough to cast such a spell of this magnitude. But I saw now that they had looked upon the problem with the eyes of ones used to playing by their own rules, not with the eyes of those who willingly broke such rules. Through this necromancy that Doctor Ernst Schertel had developed a way around the White Council's second limitation now seemed to have been achieved as well.

Ishmael's rabbi teaching intruded into my thoughts at this point as well. I saw immediately that the release of the power contained in all these souls might not only create this divine being that the Red Shirts had wanted, but it would destroy these trapped immortal souls in the process of consuming the immortal magical spark that each contained. Having witnesses and understood the dreadfulness millions of others had suffered as an end to their life was only a shadow of the true horror of knowing they would be denied an afterlife existence as well. This was why Ishmael could not simply turn over the watch and have his family returned to him. Three short human life spans could not balance out eternity for millions of others.

I prayed that Murphy's search had ended successfully and that whatever else happened to me or the city of Chicago tonight that these three were safe once more.

There were still more events that Ishmael needed me to witness, to fully understand as these events seemed to be coming to resolution.

With Simon as their leader, Ishmael and a close knit group of Holocaust survivors sponsored by the newly born Israeli government, began hunting through the records recovered in Germany for those who had taken part in what Karrin had called 'The Necessary Ending and The New Beginning' to make the Nazis there own god. There were few records to be found. It was obvious someone had cleaned these all out before the war had ended, likely the very Red Shirts that Wiesenthal's group was actively hunting in order to cover their tracks. My own mind interjected and explained the raid that the White Council and Wardens had made upon the group as well and this further filled in the gaps in the now commonly shared story that each of us had before our soul gaze had begun.

The hunters though had learned of the Odessa Files and the movement of Nazis to South America. There they had their greatest success, capturing Adolf Zeitel, one of the Red Shirts at another Death Camp, and bringing him to stand trial in Israel. Ishmael had convinced Simon to have the regular Mossad take down the fugitive, just as they would later do with Adolf Eichmann, and to ensure no mention of the Red Shirts or their activities were known publicly until the pocket watch could be located and the souls trapped within released. Even then, they had considered, that perhaps it was better to all parties involved if the truth of the watch was never known.

While the hunters had not been an obvious part of his capture, Simon's group did interview the Zeitel, quite severely and without any remorse on the part of Ishmael who performed these duties himself. I tried hard not to focus on the feelings of satisfaction he got from this brutal action and jumped instead to the wealth of knowledge this unfortunate requirement had garnered for the group's understanding and success.

Zeitel, who had been the engineer of these physical events side of the plan and reported directly to Doctor Schertel himself, knew all the details from beginning to end. And while he may have resisted for a period of time at first, after being broken by those he had once sentenced to death himself, the Nazi fugitive had explained the plan and all its key elements in vivid and horrifying details.

Doctor Ernst Schertel was indeed a true wizard and was also a close confidant of Adolf Hitler himself, though the hunters could never find a single photo where the two appeared together. This oddity too was assumed part of the cover up process and the team therefore assumed such evidence was likely destroyed before being captured by the Allies.

Early in his rise to power Shertel had introduced Hitler to beings from beyond, what I knew to be from the Nevernever, and a demonstration of the power and knowledge they had at their command. Hitler had wanted to use these forces to further his own goals, but Schertel had rebuffed this notion explaining that the price to be paid by such an arrangement would far outstrip any benefits the Nazis could gain except under the most dire of circumstances. Instead Schertel provided Hitler with his book as a means to understand what was truly required.

Hitler read and finally understood that the Nazi's needed their own god. While there were powerful beings that existed beyond this realm, they also had they own agendas and could not be trusted to further those of the Third Reich except when it pleased them to do so. So what Schertel suggested instead was that the Nazis create their own god from one of their own number so that the ingrained spirit and teachings would make them eternal allies even after the ceremony was completed. Hitler approved the plan even though both men realized that to do this would require not only a genetically perfect specimen, the Aryan Race's god must be of this form, and that he must also carry an immortal or demonic spark as well. That information Ishmael related reinforced the passages Carlos described that Hitler had written into the margins of his copy of Schertel's book. But both also knew the spell would require the containment of more magic than the wizard currently knew how to gather.

To create the perfect genetic specimen Hitler assigned the brilliant and mad Doctor Mengele to this endeavor. History would record that he would perform genetic tests upon those in the concentration camps to further his understanding of this science with the goal to apply these results to meet the first half of the Nazi's divine requirement. Thankfully the war ended before he succeeded. Simon's hunters tracked the doctor to South America where they learned he had continued his work, but the group was never able to capture him even when Zeitel provided them his location.

Schertel on the other hand had been given the twin vital tasks of infusing this perfect being with a spark of demonic or divine life essence; and also finding some way to contain the necessary levels of magic required to actually create a god. To do this Zeitel and others assisted Schertel in casting a spell to contact a being from the great beyond known to him only as Barter. Who or what this being was Zeitel did not know but this entity provided Schertel, in exchange for some undefined cost that Zeitel was not privy to, both the watch and the means by which one could infuse divinity into a mortal.

My own memories let the face of Mr. Leland pop into my mind and explain to Ishmael that he had called himself the maker of the pocket watch. My senses had not detected magic about him like I normally would with a wizard or a being of the Nevernever, but I still had sensed there was something peculiar about him. I now knew that the Warden histories had been incorrect. Schertel had indeed made contact and something from beyond the Outer Gates and it had indeed arrived here in our realm. Worse still, I now realized that I had a contract with this very being as well. The very name of Barter made me certain he was not someone I could easily go back on my word with once out deal had been made. And wizards who broke contracts often suffered terrible fates as well.

Armed now with the physical means to store the required amounts of such power and following Doctor Schertel's exact specifications, Zeitel helped build the concentration camps in a way to draw and funnel all these departed souls, the ultimate source of nearly eternal magical power required for the spell, to the Auschwitz camp where it was all gathered into the pocket watch. Each death provided just a little more fuel, stealing souls from the existing gods worshipped by those who the Nazis had condemned.

To instill the divine spark, Schertel was forced to deal with another powerful being from the great beyond called Nerthus. The name from Ishmael's memories merged once more with my own and I offered what little I had gathered about her being a Pagan goddess whose center of power had once been around Germany and therefore acceptable to the vision of Aryan supremacy. This being agreed to bear the child of the genetically perfect man that Doctor Mengele was to create in exchange for the worship and honor she had long been denied since the Romans and Christians had crushed the Pagans. Doctor Schertel, playing upon the goddess's ego, promised Nerthus she would not go back to the Outer Gates until such time as an entire population accepted and acknowledged her greatness and achievements.

But then the plans of Hitler's Zauberer-Staffel began to come apart. The air raid that had saved my, I mean Ishmael's life, I was getting confused over who I was as this soul gaze played out, had been the last time the ceremony had been conducted. Millions more Jews and other 'undesirables' would still be killed but not with the purpose to fuel the watch. For all appearances after this raid the Red Shirts had fled Germany, that is except for a small number who were apparently killed in a horrific magical battle. Those were likely the low level wizards that Carlos had said the Wardens had battled and captured.

Zeitel said that Schertel had built a unique submarine to carry him away from the war in the case of an emergency to South America where the rest of the members of the 'The Necessary Ending and The New Beginning' had agreed to continue their work, but his submarine never arrived in any port. Zeitel had assumed, like so many other U-boats of that time, that Schertel's had been discovered and sunk by the allies in route to the safe haven he sought far from Europe. It was only in the early 1950s when the U.S. Navy declassified their own war records that the identity and the fate of the U-505 were finally revealed to Simon's hunters.

This created a new dilemma. The group though could not merely search the submarine looking for the pocket watch because it lay tied up to a dock in a Navy port on the East Coast. That type of action would draw too much attention to the group and they did not want anyone else, such as foreign intelligence services who were tracking their movements, to realize the full potential of power the watch held or even to get wind of its existence. When the Navy made plans to sink the submarine, Ishmael convinced Simon to use front company donations to have the submarine moved to the Chicago museum where it sits today as a technological display of a war relic. The group figured a museum was a far easier place to break into and search than a naval base.

On the 22nd of September 1954, Simon's group broke into the museum and searched the submarine. This was just three days before it was to have its formal dedication and be opened to the public for tours. Just before dawn, there in a hidden lead lined secret compartment in the Captain's cabin that I saw in my mind, the group found the pocket watch they had been seeking for nearly a decade. Unfortunately they learned that other beings could sense the watch's power now as well and were immediately drawn to it.

Two members of Ishmael's group were immediately slain by a frog-like bipedal creature straight from a horror novel that appeared without any warning. My own mind told me this was another of those frog demons that Harry himself had fought once and barely was able to defeat with his magic. Armed only with pistols the hunters had no real chance. It was only through good fortune that sunrise forced the creature away and back to the Nevernever before it could get possession of the artifact.

Though the group tried to disassemble the watch that morning or even smash it when the delicate approach to the problem proved unsuccessful, in the end the hunters were resigned to the fact that they had to leave the watch in this secret compartment that had been built to conceal it from those who might covet its power. They decided also one of their number, therefore, must be charged to guard it until a way could be found ultimately to destroy it and released the souls trapped inside. Ishmael accepted this duty and Israeli agents of the government arranged to have him hired at the museum where he could watch over this precious item without arousing undo suspicions. It had worked because he fell off the monitors of U.S. intelligence agencies.

For decades Ishmael had performed this duty, removing all connection between him and the members of Simon's group, taking a wife almost immediately and starting a family. Over the years as his own death approached he only shared this terrible secret with his grandson, the boy he picked to be his successor in this important and sacred duty. That was until the boy was killed a week ago by Nazis, the very people Ishmael had been hiding the watch from. Ishmael knew then that somehow the secret had gotten out.

I felt a strange tugging sensation in my mind and Ishmael and I broke our shared soul gaze. The tears of hopelessness in his eyes were drying and the way he looked upon me with a sense of hopefulness made me uncomfortable. I do not know what he saw inside of me, but whatever it was obviously gave him courage. I only wish I shared this moment of confidence.

"I understand now." I said simply.

"You do." He said smiling, honestly smiling, for the first time I had ever seen. "If only you had been born Jewish I would be honored to adopt you into my family. You would not consider converting by any chance would you?" He asked with just a hint of a teasing smile.

"Um...no." I replied a little uncomfortable. "For one reason your golems and I do not seem to get along." I tried to joke.

"Yes you destroyed another one I saw in your mind." He said without anger. "You really are a very resourceful girl, though I think your taste in fashion leaves something to be desired." He said noting my warrior princess getup and not approving.

"Hey I had to save…"

"I saw the memory." He smiled. "I was only teasing. But try not to kill my remaining golem. He is returning here to me it seems."

"I guess since the other one killed the Nazi who had kidnapped your family, this one's mission was no longer required so it is returning for further orders." I reasoned making him pause. "Hopefully my friend Sergeant Murphy has located your family by now."

"God willing." He replied. "And yes it is returning to me only…" He looked confused by this fact.

"What?"

"He should have just become inanimate once his target had been killed. That means…" Ishmael explained before he was interrupted.

"Molly!" Curtis called as he came around the circular wall and saw the two of us standing there. "I see you found your friend here just as you suspected you would." He was smiling, though a much colder smile than I had seen him wear before.

"YOU!" Ishmael screamed and pointed an accusing finger. All the rage a body could hold welled up in the old man's eyes.

"Moi?" Curtis asked with overly dramatic innocence.

"You killed my grandson!" The old rabbi said.

"Guilty as charged." He did not even attempt to deny it and seemed equally entertained by noting the outrage on the old man's face and then the shock on my own. "I also was the one who has the rest of your family stored nicely away where you can go get them once you give me the pocket watch." He said deadly serious.

Curtis was Eric? Oh my god the implications of this were too much for me to focus on and fully explore right now. Eric's mother had said he was working with the skinheads and had killed Jonathan Rothstein and now Curtis, or the person I knew as Curtis, was admitting to being the one who had committed the crime as well. And that, entwined with the fact that he wanted the watch meant that he was up to no good and that it was therefore up to me as the current wizard protector of Chicago to stop him.

"Feugo!" I said firing a burst of flame that flew near his head without actually hitting him. This ball was my most impressive yet being that I was still hopped up on my energy potion and also that I was really pissed off at being used and betrayed!

"Forget it Curtis, or Eric, or whatever your name is." I said holding my arm out toward him as an obvious threat that said while the first blast had been a warning the next blast was not going to miss.

"Actually it is both." He said keeping up his smile and not seemingly all that intimidated by my display of power. "I am Eric Curtis Manuel, though my family's actually surname had been Mengele until the 1970s." He said seeing Ishmael's eyes as well as well as my own now open wide at this revelation. "I also admit you have me beat on this whole tossing fire thing, but then again that is really a secondary form of magic for me. I am much more adept at what is called sensitive magic."

"Verzweifeln!" He commanded before I could call out my own spell and a sudden sense of overwhelming despair focused solely upon one person rather than dispersed over a full crowd slammed fully into me. Had I been prepared for such an attack, my will ready to resist it like a shield spell, then perhaps I might have waded through it but I had not been. As I fought the sense of hopelessness he taunted me even more. "By the way I should tell you that your friend Carlos never got that ambulance you had asked me to call for him. I hope he has not bled to death just yet."

I also realized at that moment that the despair I had been feeling for the last day was not real. Eric had subtly planted that in me first when I had sniffed the rose he gave me and built upon it while we ate dinner and shared stories. He had prepped the battlefield of my emotions to use against me when the time was right, and now I had no defense against this attack.

I sank to the ground and curled into a fetal position. I wanted to scream, I wanted to fling bolts of flame at him, hell I wanted to kill him, but emotionally I could not find the strength to do so. Instead I just remained curled up and sobbed uncontrollably as my world fell apart around me. I could only listen as the rest of the events played themselves out.

"Your golems were rather annoying old man." Eric said with a bit of a laugh. "I had not planned on them but I have to admit they served a good purpose in cleaning up the loose end of those wannabes who aspired to join our noble Zauberer-Staffel ranks. They also kept the police looking the wrong way so I owe you thanks."

"Wait until this next one catches up to you and you will see just how annoying they can be." Ishmael replied. "I can sense him just outside the museum doors." He threatened with his own sense of smugness. "If you flee now you will stay alive for as long as you can keep ahead of him, though I must tell you he is a tireless tracker. Perhaps if you keep flying from country to country you might live out a year."

"I do not doubt that which is why we are going to take another approach rather than negotiate with you to call him off." He said and then I heard the clatter of metal striking stone. Through my tear filled eyes I saw a silver Nazi dagger land near me and then slide to Ishmael's feet. "Molly over there showed me that your mystical connection to this creature is through your concentration camp tattoo to the similar mark on his arm. Since I can't remove his appendages as effectively as she did, I will have to see if the same results occur from the opposite action. If you will kindly pick that dagger up and carve off the brand on your arm I would appreciate it."

I could sense Ishmael hesitate but that the fear sweeping through him told me he assumed such action would be successful.

"No." He said defiantly. Gotta admire a ninety year old guy so willing to look death in the face and spit at it.

"I do not have time for this." Eric said. "Dominieren!" He called out and I felt another burst of powerful sensitive magic sweep across the room. His powers are what I could be if I studied as hard as Harry asked of me.

To my horror I saw Ishmael reach down and draw the dagger from its scabbard and place the blade of the weapon against his left forearm. I wanted to scream, to tell him to fight on as I could see him trying to resist based upon the tension in his right arm. I struggled even more to gather my will to throw off the spell affecting me as well and the pressure this internal battle was causing me would mean either I would win, or I would be crushed under it. There was no middle ground left in this struggle.

With a cry of pure agony, physical, emotional, and even spiritual Ishmael did as he had been commanded to, removing the hunk of tattooed flesh and leaving only a bloody gouge in his wake. Somewhere close by the golem screamed inhumanly as it also died frustrated so close to its intended prey as well. And inside of me the battle came to its conclusion as well. Seeing these defeats around me, I lost as well and slipped into blackness.


	21. Chapter 21

**Axis and Allies**

**_Friday After Midnight _**

**_Chapter 21_**

I lingered in alpha wave sleep for some unspecified time, my mind urging me to wake up and my body fighting against it. I had been pushed hard over the past few days and had it not been for my energy drink potion I certainly would not have found my way back to consciousness. But since I used Beast Energy Drink as my base liquid for my potion rather than merely coffee I had an eight hour jolt of power running through me to draw upon not just a twenty minute sugar and caffeine high.

I almost found the strength to open my eyes the first time when I felt warm, wet sandpaper running over my wrists and then light tickles in the same area like an artist's paint brush running across the area. While it did not feel bad per say, the very teasing sensation of it was enough to rouse me toward consciousness. Unfortunately it stopped before I made it all the way back to opening my eyes and this left me floating between the two worlds of sleep and wakefulness without a clear decision of which one I should take.

Then there was a sudden painful jerk on both my wrists at once which I now realized were painfully tied behind my back. A second tug immediately after, stretched my shoulders back in an awkward angle and painfully made me yelp, which came out more as a dull moan since I realized at that point my mouth had also been gagged it seemed.

"Be still Ms. Carpenter and I shall have you free in a moment." In my slowly wakeful haze the voice speaking to me I knew was familiar and male but I could not place where I knew it from. I did, however, take comfort when I noted the sense of concern the voice conveyed.

"Thank you." I said, though it came out as "Murgle Pfft." My rescuer stopped his work on my wrists and removed the gag from my mouth before again returning to the ropes binding my arms. By this point I could also feel others tied equally secure on my ankles as well.

His frustration at the knots was obvious and I felt him switch his actions to a sawing motion. "They must have been tied by a boy scout." I said quietly and sarcastically more to myself than to my rescuer.

"I believe it more likely instead to be one of the Hitlerjugend." The voice whispered in response. "They are the ones known to you in history as the Hitler Youth."

I thought I now recognized the voice of my rescuer. "Heinrich?" I asked for confirmation.

"Yes Ms. Carpenter." He said then with one last tug I felt the bonds around my wrists break free and blood rush into my denied and therefore chilled hands. If you have never had circulation cut off and then restored let me tell you it hurts like little jolts of fire as they oxygen the blood carries reinvigorates the cells that are dying from its denial! However I did realize that the burning sensation I felt was good thing in the long run because the feeling and control were returning to my fingers. I had the feeling I would be requiring their dexterity in the near future.

"If you can scoot around so I do not have to step out of the shadows I will cut your ankles free as well. I suggest you lay back though and try to look asleep until you feel strong enough to stand up and run away." Heinrich's suggest was logical and allowed my body the chance to prepare itself for whatever was to come. The fact that I was alive, tied up, and somewhere in near total darkness that was not the Holocaust Museum I had been in did not provide me with a sense that my captor had meant good things for me.

I did what Heinrich said and laid down with my face by the marble floor with my hands still hidden behind me to continue the illusion of my captivity. The room I lay in was cloaked in shadows and only a small amount of light from emergency exit signs more than twenty feet always gave me any sense of the size of the chamber I was in. "Where are we Heinrich?" I had a sense of familiarity, almost déjà vous but my mind was still trying to reset and catch up to actual events it seems.

"We are in the museum." He said as I felt him sawing on my leg bonds furiously. "This is the location where you had told me to meet you when you called me at the hospital. I am sorry I was delayed but the duty nurse was gossiping right outside my door so I could not leave unobserved after drinking your potion. I must say you should sell this drink. It may not taste good but I feel thirty years younger!" I was not sure if I should take that as a compliment. While thirty years younger was nearly double my age that still left him feeling in his mid-sixties, almost three and a half times my age.

But the memory he shared brought much of the events clouded in my mind back into clarity. Heinrich had been my second call from Harry's place before I had left with Carlos. I had instructed him to drink the potion and to meet me at the Science and Industry Museum; Curtis unfortunately for me had been my first call with the same destination request. I did not really want to dwell right now on the fact that I had inadvertently put events in motion for my own defeat and current capture. I am pretty sure if Harry wrote a book about being a Wizard Private Investigator and important dos and don'ts, not calling you enemy to come attack you from surprise would rank up there as one of the most important lessons to always keep in mind.

"Okay, that explains how you got here." I said. "Do you have any idea on how I managed that?"

"You were brought here through the back loading door by the Hitler Youth poster child." Heinrich said. "I would not have even noticed if that very odd and resourceful cat of yours, or at least I assume it belongs to you, had not hissed at me to bring me around the back in time to see you being carried inside." He sat silent for a second to concentrate on the cutting right near my skin. "That Nazi's father and mother are also here, or that is what he refers to them as in German no less. That pair is currently torturing your rabbi friend, mostly through words though the occasional slap to keep his attention when his eyes wander off. I think they do this merely for the fun of it not because they want any further information." He said with disgust.

Finally the last rope came apart and my legs were free. The tingling in my hands was easing up but now my feet were feeling it. I had to rest a minute so I could walk without stumbling.

Heinrich placed Eric's Nazi dagger on the ground and slid it away from himself and into the darkness out of sight. "I had hoped never to touch another of those Hell damned blades but your need was greater than my disgust at my past." He said with obvious revulsion.

"You might want to keep it for protection." I offered doubting he had anything else since he had come here from the hospital.

"No." He said firmly. "I have come to realize that when your potion wears off I will likely collapse and die since the pain has become so great my body cannot take it without heavy doses of morphine." He sat there for a moment as I massaged the blood back into my legs. "I will not leave this world with my last acts tainted by touching something like that again."

"Fair enough." I agreed not seeing any room to argue with the man's obvious experience, slipped off my shoes and put them down, and tentatively got back up to my feet thankful to find my balance.

"You will need your shoes once you escape outside." Heinrich reminded me.

"I'm not going anywhere." I said. He looked at me in pale red glow of an exit sign light and understood I meant what I was saying.

I checked my bearings and realized I was in the flash and bang center of the museum where I had been scared days before. I thought this should have been a great opportunity. You know in the movies how the villain always drops the super spy, or in my case the cute and perky high school wizard apprentice, right next to a supply storage room with grenades and bullets to help him escape? Yeah well that does not happen in real life. I looked all around and there was nothing there at all, forget about whatever I found being useful enough that I could MacGyver into the perfect homemade weapon. Life just really is not fair!

"Looks like you have to do it the old fashion way Molly by relying only on yourself." Harry's voice teased me again. "Still think calling yourself me was a good idea?"

"Shut up Harry!" I whispered aloud in response.

"Who is Harry?" Heinrich asked.

"Someone who is going to get a long talk about allowing his apprentices to slack off on their training and not having them prepared for fighting Nazis, golems, and demigods was completely his fault." I whispered back. Either Heinrich was very perceptive and understood everything I meant, or he decided now was not the time to pursue this line of questioning even further.

"The I suspect that you have a plan?" He asked.

"Do I have a plan?" I said in mockery. "Of course I have a plan." I'm not sure he believed me but it sounded a whole lot better than being honest and asking him 'Does running and screaming we are all going to die qualify as a plan.'

"What can I do to help?"

Gotta admit I am really impressed by today's older generation. Guys my age would have either been seeking to escape, or trying to convince me one last make out session was the correct course of action. "Would you happen to have seen my backpack, a sword, or the guy this cape belongs to?" I asked. "And by the way what happened to my cat?"

"The man you are speaking of is with the others, well all except the Hitler boy, in the room directly to the east which is called the Science of Storms room." He replied. "Your friend is injured and unconscious and does not look like he will be of much help, but it did appear his bleeding had stopped. They have him tied up to a machine that shoots bursts of flame into the air. I think they plan to use it as a makeshift funeral pyre, though I suspect by their cruel nature that he will not be dead when the machine is turned on."

"Your backpack is there as well, but the sword is in the scabbard around your friend's waist. I would have preferred using it to cut you free rather than touching another of those vile daggers but I could not get close enough to him without being seen by the parents. If we are careful and quiet though, we can get you to your backpack."

Well that was something. "And the cat?" I asked.

"He ran off once you started to wake up." Heinrich said. "I do not know where he is right now." Yeah that was about par for the course. On the plus side he did bring Heinrich so I had to be happy with Mister for that. Of course I would have bought him a hundred cans of tuna if right now he was convincing a SWAT team to show up as well.

"If we only had a wheelbarrow." I sighed aloud.

"Like what you carry dirt in?" Heinrich asked me. "Why do you need a wheelbarrow? There may be one over in the farm section if you would like me to go retrieve it."

I almost said 'Then why didn't you list that among our assets. What I would not give for a Holocaust Cloak.' See when I am nervous I tend to resort to classic movie lines or song lyrics. Unfortunately, not a lot of people tended to catch on to these references in the middle of a life and death crisis.

"Forget it." I said realizing that trying to explain The Princess Bride at that exact moment was probably not a good idea.

"Where is Eric?" I asked him noting his confusion. "The Hitler Youth boy." I explained.

"Ah, he went in search of whatever item he tortured the location out of your rabbi friend." Heinrich said.

"Ishmael was tortured and still lived?" I asked incredulously. Geez that old guy is tough.

"Only his mind." Heinrich answered. "The boy appeared to have him in some sort of trance and was making him think of horrible things. His parents even helped supplying comments about concentration camps and slow walks to his death. It was during that as I was listening to this that I was able to sneak over to your gear and get the dagger to cut you free. Finally Ishmael broke down and told the three all he knew. The boy laughed at this and departed ten minutes or so ago to retrieve his prize."

Well that means the three were not together, though that was hardly the encouragement I was hoping for considering that one of the two remaining was a demigod. On the bright side if she was somehow defeated, the other two were relatively a piece of cake by comparison. That first hurdle though was of course a mighty big, let's be honest, a nearly impossible 'if.'

"You would not happen to know the name Nerthus by any chance would you?" I asked Heinrich remembering he was from Germany where the goddess had once been worshipped.

"The Pagan goddess?"

"Yes that is the one." I said. "In German stories of her, I am assuming she does not have any secret weakness such as she is deadly afraid of mice or anything like that does she?" It is not like I had ready access to mice or anything but hey I was grasping at straws here.

"Not that I recall." Heinrich said which of course was frustrating to hear. Okay God, you help those who help themselves, it's not like I am not trying here or anything. And sure if my dad needs something then you part the Red Sea almost. Yep I can add a charge of blasphemy to my rolls for Sunday, which of course is only important if I lived through the next few hours.

"I only recall she was vain and liked to have people worship her greatness as a goddess." He said. That was not surprising; based upon my memory of Greek and Roman mythology that is hardly anything unique that I could use as a weapon to defeat her.

"Yeah, I already have that." I said. Damn no demigod kryptonite. Okay my options were slowly reducing to zero, and those few that I might have all required me to get to my backpack and most importantly rescue Carlos. I figure a Warden, even an injured one, was more help against a demigod than a mere apprentice would be.

"Alright here is what I want to do." I said and Heinrich listened. "I will try to get to my backpack and also free my wounded friend." I said noting his look of skepticism. "I need you to sneak around and when the evil Ward and June Cleaver are looking at me, free Ishmael, and get him and yourself the hell away from here as fast as possible. Do you understand?"

"No."

"No, you don't understand?" Could the Leave it to Beaver reference have been too much?

"I understand that you are taking on the dangerous part and giving me the easier." He said. "What I do not understand is if I am going to be dead soon anyway why you do not let me attempt the suicide rescue on your friend and you get Ishmael away? He does not deserve this after all my people have put him through. And you frauline, while courageous, have a whole life before you to live as well."

"That option would be great if I were taking a vote and all things between us were equal, such as you having magical talent." I said. "You are right that Ishmael does not deserve this fate. However, the backpack has things in it that I can use for my magic. And Carlos knows me he does not know you so this duty falls to me. Since you were right about the Ishmael half then you must understand the importance of getting him away from here. Besides, you still wanted to ask his forgiveness which is the whole reason I gave you the potion and called you to come down here in the first place. Please do not dishonor the gift."

Heinrich hated my argument but he really could not counter it. The fact that I had magical tools in the backpack meant I had to get it. I did not need to tell him that the tools were pretty basic, he just needed to believe that they offered me a chance. And guilt works extremely well on those who are already suffering from it and Heinrich had a lifetime's worth it seemed. Any guilt I felt about lying was balanced out by knowing I was trying to avoid a horrible death and possibly afterlife for him as well.

"Alright, I will do as you ask. Give me a few minutes to get into position for I am not as spry as when I was your age." He said reluctantly. "What will you signal be?" He asked.

"You will most certainly know it when you see it." I said with a smile that was all the result of my Nick Bottom acting lessons. But in the very dim light he bought it and shook my hand before departing.

"God please protect the old men this night." I whispered a prayer. "And any extra luck for perky apprentices would certainly be appreciated." Yeah, there was no sudden blast of divine lightning taking out a demigoddess so I guess I had to figure this one out all by myself.

Now I must admit I thought of myself as a goddess on occasion, all girls do, but it is different to be facing off against a real one. Worse still is not know anything about the one you are about to be facing. I mean if it had been Athena or even Kali then I would have something to go on, but until one, or was it two, days ago I had never even heard the name Nerthus before. Accordingly I only had Ishmael's background story on her because of what Wiesenthal's team had collected, which was not all that much, and now a second confirmation on these basic facts by Heinrich.

I went over these details again while the old man made his way to his rescue point and a thought slowly came to me. It was not a plan, not in any real sense of that word, and certainly not one Harry would endorse for me if I explained it. On the other hand it seemed just like the type of thing Harry himself might do with his own back up against the wall. And considering that this was the only potential option to prevent a Nazi god from being born tonight, I figured I really had nothing to lose if it failed. Guess that Nick Bottom stuff was going to come in handy after all.

Heinrich probably expected me to first sneak in and get to the backpack while Eric's parents were focused upon tormenting Ishmael for his failures. That way I could use my few magic charms to keep their attention while he performed his own mission as well. Yeah, that had been my first thought too. But I realized it really gained me nothing. It's not like I had Harry's blast rod or staff in my pack. So I went with incredibly foolish option number two.

I took a deep breath to calm myself and ignore the 'are you insane' questions parts of my mind were asking me. Then I strode boldly into the candlelit room, my bra covered chest thrust forward in defiance, Carlos's cape billowing a bit around me, and my blonde hair brushed back as if I feared nothing and no other being; demigoddesses included. I even hummed a song loudly both to calm my nerves and project my indifference, okay it was Old MacDonald Had a Farm – the only song I could think of at the moment, but I figured the demigoddess probably did not know it so who cares.

My showy arrival did not of course go unnoticed, just as I had expected. "Ah Ms. Dresden you are awake and have freed even yourself I see." Ms. Brown, aka Nerthus, looked at me and now seemed more to my eyes than the scared young woman who had come to Harry's office less than a week ago. Human eyes sometimes oversee things they do not comprehend. I had thought her only a normal customer so I had not been looking for telltale signs of evil goddess therefore had ignored them. Now though, knowing who and what she was I saw her completely revealed as deadly, powerful, and of course beautiful. As nearly a comedic side note the father also drew his gun, a Lugar of course, I guess they got them for a special discount rate, and started to point it toward me as well as if the goddess's power would not be enough.

Nerthus seemed to notice this too and the minor suggestion of insult did not escape her. "That will not be required my dear." Nerthus said causing him instantly to stop in his obeying of her command.

"Is your training of him responsible for that or do the Nazi's breed their perfect man to take orders like a well broken golden retriever?" I asked with actual laughter added to my mocking tone of disdain. "If the Nazi's have this Stepford Husbands thing down I might want to put one on order myself, a little younger perhaps with a tighter butt, but I do have to admit I do like their submissiveness."

The less than cordial yet prideful Doctor Manuel, Curtis/Eric had never given me his first name only his occupation, tensed slightly at my jibe but still pointed the gun toward the ground and waited as Nerthus had commanded him too. I had not really expected the turn your opponents against each other merely by causing dissention ploy to work, but hey I might keep them from guessing my real objective here and that would help me.

"It is funny you should speak of merging bloodlines like that my dear." Nerthus replied. "When I appraised you at our first meeting and felt the tingle of your magical talent, quite impressive compared to so many others, I had considered you as potentially a suitable match for my son. Unfortunately as I learned over time by your association with old men and self important virgin wizards your taste and eye for finer things appears questionable."

"I am not self important." I said defensively and not happy everyone was tossing the whole virgin thing around.

"Not you dear." She said. "I was referring to the wounded one you brought with you."

"Carlos?" I said suddenly shocked by this revelation. Could that be true? Oh my god the Love Nest number was suddenly a hundred times funnier than it had been when I had first listened to it. "Are you sure about that?" Hey it's not like he was going to share this information, and if you can't trust the evil genius goddess about to blast you to bits to be honest with you about your friend's sexual experiences then who can you trust?

"My dear the smell of his purity is even more powerful than your own." She said taking a big whiff as evidence. "I must say after so many years that is a fragrance I never grow tired of." She paused to look at his bound atop the fire display and I had to admit while I was thinking over the implications I too had nothing more to say on the subject. Oh he is so going to apologize for ruining my make out session in the car even if it had been with a hot psycho Nazi who now probably had plans to kill me and everyone else.

I'm not sure I liked knowing that every powerful being could sense my sexual status just by scent it seems. Sort of like the worst possibilities made real if those x-ray glasses they sold in comic books actually worked. "Come on really?" I asked though staying in character. "Isn't the sacrifice a virgin thing just a trifle worn out to you Pagans after three thousand years or so?"

"You of all people really must thank him for his personal restraint in this area." Nerthus continued. "He now fits our requirement to sacrifice one pure of body and soul yet blessed with the spark of magic. Because of that you will not be the sacrifice as I had first intended when I sent you after Eric. I had searched this city for days looking for anyone with a magical spark, but I had only found those incompetent boys who the golems had killed and while they were useful to help us locate the watch, I would have found them to be an insulting sacrifice. I do not doubt Barter would feel the same way. Now that those five are dead, I believe my dear that you and your unconscious friend are the only wizards remaining in this city."

"Actually he is from out of town." I said keeping her attention firmly on me as I noted Heinrich begin to move toward Ishmael. "But even still what is it with this whole virgin sacrifice thing?"

"You people have advanced in your knowledge of the world so far yet still you have forgotten so much." She said shaking her head at the irony. And of course I could not really argue with her seeing how she had been around for a few thousand years and had observed all this and I had not.

"The value of virginity is not merely for its unique taste, much like veal I think you would find, but it is because you humans put such a high price upon this status. It is the value _you_ give it that makes it worthy to give to us. Just like your gold is merely a shiny rock. It had no inherent value when it was created, except in your mind you decided it did so today it forms the basis of your monetary world." Nerthus replied. In a very odd way what she was saying made sense.

"The desire for a virgin sacrifice is to demonstrate your willingness to sacrifice something you yourselves find incredibly valuable, not just the virginity, but the life of the individual as well which makes the offering that much more pleasing." She smiled and stared though me. "You cannot deny its importance Ms. Dresden. You yourself have come into breeding age but still you take no physical pleasures. Why is that if not because what I say is true? Are you not waiting for your first time because it will mean so much?"

And I though sex talk with Murphy was embarrassing. You gotta give Father Forthill credit. He never asked for a whole lot of details with any sins admitted to. You said you had lustful thoughts and he slapped a standard penance on you, case closed. The Pagans' forgiveness process I guess was that it is better for situations to be called out and discuss before everyone on The View. Well sorry Barbra Walters, this wizard apprentice really has nothing to share on this subject.

"Yeah well it's not like you let your son sow his wild oats either." I shot back.

"That is slightly different because we could not afford any chance there would be progeny left behind if he ascended to godhood." Nerthus replied. "Through his training and devotion to the Red Shirt's teachings his mind and his body were molded to meet their needs. Such things as sex for a man his age merely provides distractions that were both unnecessary and also counter-productive to their goals. I am not sure I agree, but by my contract with them I could not interfere in their plans."

"Oh yes about that contract, speaking girl to girl, why exactly would a Pagan goddess agree to support a Nazi cause. It is not like you share the same values or anything?" I asked. Okay the girl to girl comment got me a raised eyebrow by comparing myself to a goddess but she let this pass and responded none the less.

"Since you are one of the gifted I shall explain." She said. I could only assume gifted to her meant magically talented. "There are rules that we may not interfere in your world unless we are called upon specifically. Some of my kind violate those rules and the rest of us punish them harshly for their crime. But by the established rules if one of us is called, and if the ones calling us offer a deal that is acceptable, then we may stay in this world for the defined period of time to meet the conditions of the contract."

"So you can appear long enough to perform a service or answer a question?" I asked for clarification to keep her talking. I could not let my eyes turn from the goddess but I could see from my peripheral vision that the two old men had still not escaped for some reason so I had to keep her talking and not looking around.

"In some cases this interaction is merely as simple as you suggest, but there are weaker powers in your own world that normally serve these needs." She said. "In my own case the Red Shirt Schertel required someone to bear their half-breed child and since I had symbolized ancient German fertility I appeared to them to be the perfect choice."

"I understand their need." I said. "What I do not understand is why you would agree. What do you get out of it? Sex with a mortal? That hardly seems a bargain worthy of your power."

"Of course not." She replied. "Though that act was hardly the worst three minutes of my immortal existence I had ever spent." She laughed. Well if that revelation did not take away part of the mystique of creating the 'perfect man' then I do not know what did.

"I have missed the worship and the acclaim of your kind." She said quite honestly. "There is real power in having being like yourself that realizes their own mortality and limited life spans to take this precious time to stop and offer honor to one of my kind. We gain strength and status over our peers by the number of such prayers offered to us."

Of course that failed to actually come into existence as Schertel had offered since the Reich had fallen. "And just how is that great deal working out for you?" I asked sarcastically thinking that this type of jibe worked to my advantage.

"Yes I must admit that the other side hardly lived up to their portion of the bargain seeing as their thousand year empire lasted barely a decade." She replied. "But by the rules of the agreement I made with them, as long as Red Shirts still exists, I am free to wander your world waiting for them to fulfill their side of the bargain to have an entire population acknowledge my greatness. Only if they no longer existed would the contract become null and void and I would be forced to return."

"No wonder Simon Wiesenthal's group focused so heavily upon them." I said aloud. "Not only would he stop their plans for creating a god but he would send you back to the Outer Gates as well."

"Yes he was indeed and annoying, if effective, little man." Nerthus replied. "There are only perhaps a dozen of the Red Shirt members still alive counting the second and third generation who have joined. I had to help hide the Brazilian village they live in to keep his hunters from finding and extinguishing them like they tried and almost succeeded with Eric's grandfather Josepf."

"I assume you were appropriately paid for this extra service?"

"Let's say I found it not in my interest to be sent back to the Outer Gates as you call them with nothing to show for my time here." Nerthus replied. "Such an event would drain me of status and therefore power among my peers. For better or worse my own fate is tied to this group's now so I must do what I can to help them succeed."

I thought over what she said for a moment. "I understand, really I do, but I think you missed a rather key clause in the contract you signed." I said with a new smile that was not all acting.

She looked at me skeptically but with a slight hint of concern since I was a wizard. Let me tell you it is such a rush when you can make a demigoddess blink first!

"And what would that be?" She asked. "If you think I will allow you to live now that you know about the remaining Red Shirts then it is you who has made the critical error of judgment. Just like you are foolish to think I do not know about the old man trying to rescue your friend behind me but who is unable too because of the paralytic spell I have placed the old Jew under Ms. Dresden or should I be honest and say Ms. Carpenter?"

Well so much for Heinrich's part of the plan. But hey I still had my final roll of the dice. With a toss in the air I put all my chips on the table and went for broke.

"Ms. Carpenter is fine." I said in reply. "In fact my name is Margaret though my friends call me Molly. You can continue to call me Ms. Carpenter though." I said to purposely be insulting.

"Yes, the poor breeding becomes more evident over time." Nerthus said in response. "I am not sure what it was that Eric found attractive in you."

"According to him it was my quick mind." I replied. "For example have you heard this one? I Margaret Molly Carpenter, at present the entire population of Chicago's native wizard community, hereby acknowledge the greatness of the Pagan goddess Nerthus for in serving as the ideal breeding factory for a perfect bastard of a failed political movement." I said. Okay, not Four Score and Twenty Years Ago but it's not like I have my own speechwriter on hand at the moment either. The dice landed on the table with a bounce as the two of us read the numbers rolled.

She stood there for a second and looked at me as the words I spoke registered in her mind. All I said was true, at least as she believed it to be. By her own account Ishmael had destroyed all others in the city that Nerthus knew of worthy of the title of wizard in this politically recognized and defined border, therefore I was in fact the entire current population. That I acknowledged her greatness was true also, though only in performing as a surrogate baby factory. By all aspects I had met the conditions of her stated contract.

"You will regret…" And with the lack of excitement of a soap bottle popping Nerthus was gone, returned to wherever she had come from. There was no big flash of energy, no whirlwind vortex, hell not even a sixty foot marshmallow man to acknowledge her passing. She was simply gone and all her power with her; which unfortunately included the mind control leash she had over Eric's father.

"That was very impressive and resourceful Ms. Carpenter. It is time for you to die for the glory of the Reich." God if that was not a worn out speech. Of course the fact that his gun was coming up to point at me did not make it any less valid. I tried to summon up magic for inserting another shield into the barrel but I knew as I called it I would be too late.

"I will kill you first you Nazi bastard!" Ishmael said drawing the attention of both of us as he broke free of Heinrich's supporting arm and charged the slightly younger man holding the gun. Heinrich was a step behind but thanks to the potion I gave him now feeling more nimble it seemed and only to a second to chase after Ishmael.

This distraction and delay were just enough for me to fling a shield to make the gun explode, unfortunately at that moment Eric's father spun the gun away from me, meaning the nine millimeter shield appeared in midair not in the barrel where I had intended, and the pistol turned it toward Ishmael. The gun barked once and then both old men went down.

Heinrich, thanks to the energy drink, bumped Ishmael away to the side, knocking the old man down and therefore took the bullet himself. A black spot appeared on his white button down shirt right where his liver would be and he looked down dumbfounded at it before a well of deep red, almost black blood began to pour out. He slumped, first to his knees and then almost falling to the side as Ishmael scrambled back up to his own knees and around to catch and hold this stranger leaning upon him before Heinrich fell back completely onto the marble floor.

Rage burned through me reigniting all my senses. I know you probably think that as a wizard I wanted to burn the old Nazi alive, which is probably what Harry would do. But I needed a more physical expression of my rage. Only that would allow for the outlet of wrath and fury now burning within me.

Two quick steps brought me toward the doctor just as his gun was spinning back around toward me as he sensed my approach. My hand shot up, straight edged and hard just as Murphy had taught me. It struck forward like a scorpion's tail striking right at the Adam's apple in his neck with a distinctive and satisfying feeling of cartilage being crushed. My hand came back into position for a second follow on strike if it was required.

It was not. The middle aged doctor's eyes bugged out as he dropped his gun that went bouncing a few steps away and grabbed at his neck. His breathing came out in wheezes, gasps and then gargles, along with a little pink froth of blood as he too fell to the ground. That was enough proof for me to stop caring about him, grab my backpack that had some bandages in it, and rush to my two friends ten feet away on the floor. Carlos would have to wait just a little while longer it seemed.

"Why did you do this?" Ishmael asked Heinrich pressing hard on his wound to try and stem the blood that was leaking through his fingers. I am no doctor but I could sense the wound was not a good one.

"Please." Heinrich responded. "I fought for them in my youth, but I loved a Jewish girl. I let their hatred and their dreams keep me from her. Keep me from telling her. They killed her and I never told her how I felt. I lied to her. I lied to myself. Please…forgive me…"

I could see the conflict in Ishmael's eyes as well. He was clutching someone who had fought for the side who had sacrificed his people, even his very own family. Yet now not only had this stranger sacrificed his own life to save Ishmael's, he was begging for the rabbi's forgiveness not for ending the life of his Jewish love, but merely for not taking enough action to save her life. Having lived through those times and seen camp guards beaten for even smaller human kindnesses toward the Jews, Ishmael had not doubt that against that type of evil the old man dying in his arms would have been killed back then if he tried.

In that moment I saw Ishmael come to realize that not only those who had suffered in the camps carried a lifetime of guilt and pain around with them. But to forgive the man dying in his arms and to get him to let go of his guilt would mean Ishmael would have to let go of his own as well and forgive those he thought of only as his enemy. And for more than sixty years this belief had been what had sustained him through his trials.

"There is nothing to forgive my friend." Ishmael said wiping away the tears that formed in his own eyes as he watched this former enemy dying in his lap. The pain in Heinrich's eyes seemed to lessen as he accepted the words and closed his eyes with a smile on his face ready to die. His breathing kept going, but with blood pooling about him told me it would not be much longer, minutes at most.

A single gunshot rang out behind me and I spun expecting to feel the bullet pass through me because the doctor had regained his weapon. Instead Eric stood over his father, the gun pointed at his former patriarch's now exploded head and then looked up at me.

"You killed your father?" I said shocked and uncertain what the hell was going on except that Eric of course had the gun. I drew in magic for another shield if I needed it.

"I did." He said tossing the weapon away as he sensed my ability to counter its effects. "Since you did such a good job and saved me the effort of disposing of my mother I figured it was only right I step up and finish off my father." He said with a smile of a predator.

"Why?"

"As they told you family ties would only be distracting." He said holding up the pocket watch on the chain for me to see. "I am becoming a god this night. I have no desire to leave such a pathetic example of humanity behind to try and claim its parentage to me."

He began to draw magic into himself as well. "Now I guess that leaves me only having to deal with you."


	22. Chapter 22

**Axis and Allies**

**_Friday After Midnight _**

**_Chapter 22_**

It was like one of those moments in the classic western movies where the bad guy in the black hat, which tonight is being played by Eric, stares at the good guy wearing the white hat, to be played tonight by a cute and perky high school wizard apprentice, as each gets ready to draw their weapon and fire. Neither of us wanted to show fear or look intimidated by the other's power and call out a spell first, but by the same token neither of us desired to get caught flatfooted by our opponent's spell. Had someone yelled 'boo' magic would have went flying in all directions.

We both had drawn in the magic to us, and being a sensitive wizard I could tell how much power I had as well as how much Eric had at his disposal. I hate to admit is but I was more than a bit outclassed. And from the smug look of satisfaction on Eric's face I am pretty sure he read the situation the same way as well.

In battle a weaker opponent is told to either defend, retreat, or to attack by surprise but not to go head to head against their opponent's strength because they will lose. None of these were particularly attractive options for me but compared to getting my butt kicked again I figured this strategy was better than none at all. Surprise, at least for the moment, seemed out of the question since he was watching and sensing my actions as I took them. Retreat served me no purpose because I had to get the timepiece away from him. That therefore left me only with a strategy of defending myself against his attacks. That too was not a particularly feasible option since he had a whole host of alternatives to select from that I would have to respond to nearly instantaneously to be effective. And also every moment I wasted Heinrich was being drawn that much closer to death's door.

I ran over my few other outside options hoping something of value would spring to mind. I did have salt, along with a few other items in my backpack, that I might use to even the odds a little more, but I doubted that Eric was going to let me draw pour out and establish a circle of protection since he had observed me perform this trick against a golem not that long ago. So the salt was not likely something to offer much assistance.

I ran down the other things I knew were in the backpack and another desperate plan began to form. I carefully began to unzip the side pouch on my backpack and wrapped my hand around the wax sealed metal test-tube contained on that side. He was so focused on my magic that he almost missed what my hand was doing; almost though still meant that he caught onto my action before it was completed.

"Yeah I don't think so!" Eric said as he decided how to use his channeled power for a spell as I pulled the flask free.

"Giggle!" He commanded and the magic wave he released in his spell exploded against my defenses.

In fairness the very command word he used struck me as funny to start with. A wizard is not required to use foreign words to ignite the spells they cast, but most wizards do so using Latin for example so they don't inadvertently cast a spell they did not intend to by saying the wrong word. Those that do not use foreign languages at least use powerful and intellectually sounding words to at least keep up the appearance that wizards are brilliant and frightening opponents. Therefore, just the use of the word giggle was so insulting to our established image be funny stupid; if you doubt me think of Gandalf the Grey calling out giggle against the Balrog, which is probably why it was so damned effective in this case.

Now picture the funniest joke you ever heard, the one that made you snort, then explode in outrageous and likely rather embarrassing laughter sounds and additional body noises. For more than a few of us it is the one that also made milk shoot out of our noses and our ribs hurt because we could barely breathe enough to keep up with our laughing. Now multiply that feeling by a factor of ten and you have what Eric's spell felt like when it rolled over me. The potion now in my hand fell to the ground and rolled away from me as my mind struggle for any sort of defense.

Since I was currently serving under the Doom that of course meant I had to stay well clear of situations that even infringed upon violation of the Laws of Magic. Therefore it was not like I could fire a similar spell back at him in this case. The Third Law of Magic was very strict and I had faced and violated it before. Thou Shalt Not Invade the Mind of Another. That left me really only one option to use the full abilities of my powers instead of fighting this battle out with one hand tied behind my back.

I released my charged up my magic and whispered out my command. "Despair!" I said barely between choking bouts of laughter. The magic flew from me and arced upwards.

Eric being a sensitive wizard as well felt the magic release and stood up quickly from retrieving my metal potion vial that had rolled across the floor and ended next to his feet. He could not 'see' the magic floating through the air per say, but he felt the energy that had been launched and tossed magic into his own physical defenses likely expecting that I was launching fire or something similar at him. But he was wrong.

The magic reached its arc apex and then crashed down right into me as well, the wave of opposing emotion I had directed breaking down the power of Eric's spell and leaving me more in balance, with only a little hint of a smile still on my face. All things being equal I could chalk that grin up to pride in figuring out how to beat Eric at his own game. The Third Law merely said I could not invade another's mind with my magic, it did not say I could not cast such a spell upon myself.

"Impressive and creative." Erik said twisting the cap off of the potion flask. "That was very unique way of countering the effect of my spell like that. I figure we probably could go back and forth like this for the rest of the night until we were both exhausted. That of course would merely waste time and I have other more pressing issues to attend to. But now thanks to you of course I have this." Without a word held up my flask as an insulting toast to me then he swallowed the contents of the potion in two big gulps finally discarding the empty vial to the side without a second glance.

"I was impressed and envious of the power your potion gave you before so I am glad I get to experience this effect for myself." He looked at me. "And while I know we are enemies in this, still if I did not mention it before you look really hot in that cape!"

I almost blushed at the compliment because in fairness and strictly anatomically speaking Eric certainly cut a dashing figure without his shirt on. It's not like I could deny to myself that I had certainly found him attractive in those times I saw him before learning he was a psychopathic killing animal born from a Nazi cult. But really in these modern times is that anyway to judge someone for their belief system?

Shit! I realized he was using a passive emotion attack on me that I had not felt. I blinked to clear my head now that I was aware of it and when I opened my eyes he was even stepping closer to me with a wicked predatory gleam in his eyes that made me feel vulnerable.

"I think I should be allowed the right to celebrate my victory before ascending to godhood don't you?" He asked me rhetorically. "I had hoped that my subtle suggestion would have made you a bit more agreeable to the idea on your own, but there is still something to be said for conquering and plundering and enemy as well especially now. My god this potion has set my very senses on fire. Because of it I feel more alive than I ever have. I have no doubt I am really going to enjoy our time together."

Well the enhanced senses potion he drank was now working through his system and perhaps that might be a good thing for my cause. I began to pool magic to me right above my heart one more time, feeling the physical drain this was taking on my body now that my own potion was starting to wear off. Thankfully there was always life and death adrenaline to help keep me going at the moment. And I might have succeeded in casting another spell if he had not sensed what I was doing.

"We can't have any of that now!" He said drawing his own power as I scrambled to prepare for whatever he had in mind. "How about we try something different yet appropriate this time; Lust!" He said firing off his power at me from three feet away. I had my mental defenses fully up and prepared, but the power of his spell was still quite strong, and let's be totally honest, it was not like I had not had these thoughts about him before. Sensitive magic works best if the recipient is prone to these thoughts already.

I grew weak in the knees and started to swoon like in one of those cheesy romance novels Harry kept on the shelf next to Bob the Skull. One small part of my mind screamed defiance at being dominated like this but the rest was willingly carried along by the feeling.

I may not have had the enhanced senses potion running through my body but I can tell you it suddenly felt like all my nerve endings were alive, awake, and fully charged at that moment. That small defiant part of me tried to rally some sort of defense with the magic I had gathered but before I could even speak a command word to release it and counter his spell, Eric's lips came down upon my own in the most wonderfully sensuous kiss I had ever experienced in my short life.

Fire seemed to blossom as our tongues met, running all the way down to my toes and then part way back up to set my entire body aflame. I now understood why women said they melted into their lovers from such kisses for that is exactly what I did as well and I would have fallen weakly to the ground if his strong arms had not been wrapped around me holding my body to his. Of course he sensed my sinking and allowed us both to do so in a controlled and graceful movement together, keeping our mouths intertwined as we went from a vertical to a horizontal position on the marble floor.

Nerthus was right that I had in fact put a high value on my virginity. It was certainly not something I had ever wanted to give away lightly in the backseat of a car for five minutes of memories. While I of course was curious about this, and there had been times my body felt almost this alive as it did now causing me to tempt myself with the idea of giving in, only once had I ever actually truly considered doing this with someone I loved. And that time had ended rather unsuccessfully with me getting a cold bucket of ice water poured over my body and an order to cool off!

Being Catholic I also had my own share of instilled guilt from an early age and this belief was trying to bolster my resistance and support that small part of my mind that was still free. I focused on the disapproving head shake of Father Forthill in confession. I thought of how this decision would break my father's heart. And I thought of how I would disappoint my mother; and how she would in turn likely break other parts of me. All of this condensed into a single image in my mind; that of the cross my mother had given me a few nights ago and the kiss she had placed on my forehead. This was the last bit of my resistance fighting against giving fully of myself.

Our kiss broke and as Eric nibbled at this wonderful spot on my body where my neck met my shoulder making me gasp in pleasured response. "Please…take off the cross!" I said before pulling him up for another passionate and time bending kiss.

He broke away and stared into my eyes having heard my desperate and minor request. "Anything for a lady." He said with a villainous smile and let his eyes wander down from my own, down my neck, and to the cross lodged in the center of my bra. His hand trailed down this same path to lift the crucifix up, but his trailed touch was so alluring that I had to close my eyes and bite my lip at the pleasure. "This one?" He teased knowing of course it was the only one I was wearing.

"Yes!" I gasped crunching my eyes even tighter and smiling. "ILLUMINATE!" I screamed with every ounce of defiance left in my soul.

The cross with my summoned magic flowing directly through it burst into light like a photographic flashbulb but in steady and continued intensity. Had my own eyes been open I would likely have been disoriented by the sudden explosive glow of lights and would have left me seeing spots as I scrambled to gather my senses. For Eric, who had drank my potion to super enhance his senses to include his vision, the flash was like looking directly into a sun that went supernova.

He screamed in object pain as in an instant his corneas were burned out and his eyes went black. His magic control over me fell away as he was unable to hold onto it. With the dazzle of light so close to his face Eric sat up to his knees, still straddled over my lower body, clutching his eyes. He had not yet realized that the flash that was slowly dimming but still painful in his mind was the last light of any color Eric would ever see again. But his reflexive movement pulling away from me put him just in the right position for a very well placed attack of my knee that I performed on instinct before pushing him off of me and scrambling away to regain both my feet and my backpack.

Based upon the increased screaming, and the sudden change in pitch Eric made when my knee connected, I can only assume that the potion's ability to enhance the sense of touch was now equally as debilitating to his body as his eyesight had been from observing the flash. Having brothers I knew from their description how much pain such a strike normally caused. Even though I still believed Eric deserved every moment of this agony.

This second successive victory gave me another idea, and since I did not have an actual plan at this point, I was counting upon inspiration to be the next best thing. I pulled the zipper of my backpack apart and reached my hand into the bag to find the next item I required; the very pepper shaker that Eric himself had given me. I unscrewed the lid and poured its dark and sandy contents in my hand.

At this point Eric was still groaning on the ground with his hands cup over his newly injured area and was gasping for breath when I stuffed the handful of ground black pepper into his nose and mouth. Perhaps some of you might think I was cruel to continue to torture a downed foe, but I will tell you at that moment I only wished I had chili powder instead.

He batted my hands away too late as his body convulsed into spasms from the pain and now the pepper. I had not seen where he had placed the pocket watch, though shirtless his options were limited, but I did not want to get within arm's reach of him to try and find it. Wounded animals were the most dangerous and I had certainly accomplished that in my attacks if nothing else. For safety sake I also grabbed the last useful item in my pack, the blue metal water bottle I had filled in the workshop, opened it, and then poured its liquid contents all over Eric's body as well before backing away to reassess my current options.

Unfortunately I could not kill him with magic or I would also violate the Doom I was under; which is really becoming an annoyance to my existence if you did not notice. But that did not mean Carlos couldn't take him down, or worse case, that I could use his Warden's sword to do so if it came to that necessity. I dropped my nearly empty backpack and ran to Carlos's side to start untying him from the flame burst machine.

"Molly?" He said somewhat confused with only one eye open and that one not completely able to focus. His body was straddled on his back over the machine and each arm and leg individual secured to different corners to keep him from sliding off in any direction when they ignited the fires beneath his torso. How they had him set up demonstrated to me it would be a pretty painful and gruesome way to die.

"Yeah it's me Carlos." I confirmed reaching down to the first knot on his left wrist and trying to work it free. Heinrich was right that whoever had tied these knots would have put the Boy Scouts to shame with their skill. I had to hurry so I reached for his sword only to learn unfortunately for me that had Heinrich attempted the same before, the old man would not have retrieved it either. When Eric had returned the sword to its scabbard he had stepped on the middle of the scabbard to bend both pieces to keep the weapon from being drawn forth. Perhaps it could eventually be bent back straight and freed but not at this time and place.

Reluctantly I went back to work on the left wrist knot, working for minutes until it finally gave way and even then I still broke one of my nails in the process. That knot took way too long but I had no idea where Heinrich had tossed the dagger so this was the only means I had left to me.

"Molly." Carlos said still drunkenly.

"Yes Carlos I am here now let me concentrate on getting you free." I said working on the knot on his left leg.

"No Molly…" He tried.

"Yes you love me now shut up and let me work."

"No Molly." He said again. "Run!"

His warning had just been enough for me to glance up and then scream and roll out of the way as the fire extinguisher Eric was holding crashed into the fire projecting machine right in the very spot my head had been occupying only a moment before. The combination of the vibration from extinguisher's blow to the machine and the fact that I had freed his left wrist allowed Carlos to slide off to his right side and land awkwardly on his side due to still being bound in three other places. This also unfortunately left his right at Eric's feet. Eric sensed this movement through the sound Carlos made and probably thinking it was me raised the fire extinguisher for another blow at a now completely helpless opponent.

"Marco!" I screamed drawing Eric's attention directly to me since his enhanced hearing was probably as good as a vampire bat's even if he could no longer see. He checked his swing toward Carlos and the blow came instead in my direction causing me to scramble over to the side before it clanged right next to me.

This put me by the display controls and I reached over and flipped the knob on the gas to fully open. Yeah that is an awesome idea isn't it? Only my plan would have worked better if the main gas valve leading to the display had been left on instead of being turned off. Stupid safety regulations! As it was there was only the small burst of trapped propane in the lines that bled out. Well here was for hoping that was enough.

"Polo!" I said teasingly just as I moved my face to a new position right next to the spark ignition switch for the machine. To reach me with his makeshift club Eric was forced to lean a little further over the machine itself when swinging the extinguisher at my head, which I will admit did not stay in this same spot as an easy target.

The extinguisher crashed right into the spark igniter causing it to perform the action it was designed for and then making the small flow of propane in the line to burst into flames for the mere instant of its diluted fuel supply. At best it would have only caused a painful flash burn; but since I had filled the blue aluminum sports bottle back at the apartment with lighter fluid from Harry's stock the little burst of flame from propane became instead an oil based living human inferno.

When I had first grabbed the lighter fluid I had thought it might be worth an attempt to try to pour this contents over a golem before firing my flame ball at, increasing the potency of my spell in the process and therefore dry out more of the creature. If I was really lucky this might have need enough to hopefully kill it. At least that is what my plan had been.

But first because of the sniper, and then being chased by the creature as I tried to protect Eric, I had never been given the opportunity to execute this plan and see if it would have worked. While it had been good for Eric that I had not wasted valuable time then, in the long run it turned out it was really unfortunate for him now because he was nowhere near as resilient to flames as the golem likely would have been.

Eric screamed and ran trying to bat away the burning sensation enhanced by the power of the potion, obviously he had never been taught stop, drop, and roll, before finally inhaling the smoke and flames and falling dead to become nothing more than a burning and crackling mass on the floor of the museum. The dancing lights from his corpse gave the entire room a surreal look. It was really a fitting end for someone who had planned on becoming a god. I wondered if perhaps in this I had served as the real God's tool in destroying a would-be challenger. But that was a reflection for another time. I noted Ishmael still holding onto Heinrich and realized there was still more to be done immediately.

The flames had mostly died down on the body and I tried not to think too much about whether the pieces cracking under my touch had been cloth or flesh a few moments ago. It took me only a few pats of my palms to find the pocket watch in his pants pocket and draw it free. I noted that in the dying light of the fire that neither the flames nor the charred remains had even stained or smudged the timepiece's glowing metallic appearance.

"The virgin sacrifice is accepted." The voice I recognized as belonging to the not-really-a-man I thought was Mr. Leland but who I now knew to be called Barter spoke behind me as my hand pulled the timepiece free. He was not kidding that he truly wanted to get his hands on this pocket watch as soon as possible.

I spun around to find him standing a distance behind me and in a completely unthreatening posture of merely leaning upon his cane and watching my reaction to his arrival with some interest. I clutched the platinum watch tight to me and felt the overwhelming hum of magic contained and rolling within its depths. I had my proof. The White Council had been wrong, and it turns out dangerously so. Schertel had indeed found a means that none on the White Council or Wardens had thought of by which to store enough magical energy to create the god he had desired. And now I could feel that this power was mine, here contained in my hand, merely awaiting my simplest command to do whatever I envisioned.

I could of course not gain immortality and godly status like Erick might have, for I did not have the immortal spark, or the demon spark as Hitler had referred to it, within me for such a transition. But I knew I could easily become the greatest wizard on Earth by tapping on this power. The Merlin's skills and even if he combined them with the other senior members of the White Council would still not come close to challenging what I could do with the power I held right here.

I could start by rewriting the Laws of Magic into something more suitable and less stringent that no longer punished the unknowing far too often with death for their crime of ignorance. I could change the missions of the Wardens to seek out those who show magical talent and bring them gently into the wizard fold rather than just serve as the enforcement and executioner arm. We could finally have a sense of true justice in the ranks of our kind, not subject ourselves to laws that were outdated centuries ago and had not kept pace with changing times and events.

It would also mean I could rescind the Doom of Damocles, at least the part hanging over Harry since he was undeserving of this punishment for my crimes. He had given everything of himself to save my life, how could I not balance these scales now that I had the opportunity to do so?

And why stop there? I could pick up the mantle that Jesus had left off, use my magic to heal the sick and feed the hungry. Certainly no one would object to such noble and selfless purposes? Dad used his skill with a sword, his faith, and especially his love for God and his family to do good in the world. God had seen fit to provide my dad the blade _Amoracchius_ to do this work on Earth. Perhaps he provided me this watch now to do the same. So why then should I not serve his purposes?

I looked back at Mr. Leland who had not moved and was staring at me if perhaps reading my every thought. He neither looked upon me judgmentally nor smiled only apparently waited for me to make my decision and then turn the watch over to him.

The lights came on in this wing of the museum and moments later Murphy appeared leading the members of Ishmael's family who looked distressed by their ordeal, but recovered quickly upon seeing the old rabbi alive and administering compassion to the dying Heinrich. The three broke away from Murphy and ran to Ishmael calling his name as they went to draw his attention. To his credit the old man looked up long enough to smile and acknowledge their safety and presence and then his eyes lowered back to the hand grasping Heinrich's own as death came for him.

"Barter can I use the magic to heal Heinrich?" I said holding the watch up to explain in less words and more form what I wanted to do.

"With the unique type of power contained within the watch, most assuredly you could." He said neutrally. "Of course it would forever use up a portion of the power if you did so."

I thought on that. The 'power' this being from beyond spoke of was the immortal souls of those who had been sacrificed to provide this charge. I thought of the old man Heinrich and the burden he had lived with his whole life knowing that he had not saved the life of the woman he loved. He would never consent to using someone else's, perhaps even his love's own soul to extend his life at best a few more years. He was too good a man to worry merely about himself.

And with such an example as a guide, two in fact if I considered Ishmael and all he had suffered to protect the souls trapped in this watch over his lifetime as well, then I knew I could not do any of the things I had been considering merely a moment ago. The power was not mine to use, even though I held the watch. Had I chosen to do so anyway I would be more akin to Erick and the Red Shirts in achieving their personal desires than I would be to the two old men for whom my respect was now total.

"Molly, is that the watch?" Murphy asked standing beside me and offering me the comfort of her mere presence. I realized as well that had the same offer I faced been given to her, she would not have even thought twice about it. Murphy was not tempted by her desire for power to do what was right either, she did it because her personal honor demanded that she did. Had it merely been a single soul trapped in the watch and the power it provided her allowed her to prevent all future crimes in Chicago, Murphy still would have reckoned the cost to be far too high a price to pay. I realized at that moment I had really come to know and share time with some truly extraordinary people in the past week. And with such examples how could I even think to do anything less and still look them in the eyes?

"Hey Murphy, Carlos has been shot and is still tied up over by that machine." I said pointing to his crimpled and slightly struggling form. "Could you free him and we can get this situation all cleared up?" I asked her. She knew there was more to it than this simple request, but she respected my appeal, hell I think she may actually have respected me after this week though I hardly think I deserved that, and went to do as I asked. I noted she, unlike me, was smart enough to carry a pocket knife with her which she opened up to deal with the bonds.

"Okay Barter, how do I release the souls unto their deserved afterlife?" I asked looking at the old man still watching me.

"You would truly give up such a valuable asset without seeking fair compensation in return?" He asked me skeptically perhaps to see how firm my decision was.

With such examples around me I did not even hesitate in my response. "The power does not belong to me, therefore I do not have the right to it." I said even impressing myself a little bit with my speech.

"Very well." He said nodding his head at acceding to my desire. "You already have the answer that you seek however, and I do not believe in selling the same thing to the same person twice."

What did he mean that I already had it? The only think I knew about this damned watch was the stories Ishmael had told me of how it was used, and of course what Barter himself had said when he hired me to… Oh heck I did have it with me after all.

I pulled the small monkey fist knot still sitting on the same chain as my cross out and began to untie it to reveal the original backing for this unique piece of jewelry. I now knew why Schertel had demanded a new backing. The means to undo all he had done was created at the same time that Barter had created the watch. I held it in my hand and ran over to Ishmael and Heinrich hoping I was not too late looking down at the words inscribed once more.

_A watch is made of gears and a spring_

_Each designed to do only one specific thing_

_With each turn the tension grows_

_Until released when this power flows_

_But such power can also be undone_

_When the two poles opposed are joined as one_

Heinrich's eyes were open and clear again even though the four members of Ishmael's family around him were all weeping quite openly and unashamed at this stranger's death. If I had told them at our first meeting they would be crying for a Nazi U-boat member in the coming days they would have undoubtedly thought me stark raving mad. Yet here we were now a few days later and this was exactly what was happening.

"You have defeated the Red Shirts and their plan Molly." Heinrich said offering me a smile that did not completely hide the pain he was suffering. "Not just that but you have provided me a means of absolution that I never thought to have. You have a lifetime of my thanks, though I do not think that is to be all that much longer in my case." He chuckled. Wow, even dying the old man tried to make me smile and not care about himself.

"Ms. Carpenter I find that I must also ask you to take up the mantle of protecting that watch you hold young lady." Ishmael said to me. "There is no one else trained who understands its value like you do, and I think you have proven yourself to be an outstanding guardian for the souls of those still trapped in the watch." I have to admit the look that he gave me of total respect was probably harder to accept than the hatred glares of those who had tried to kill me this week. The fact that the rest of his family seemed to share this assessment, and that both Murphy and the now freed Carlos were offering me the same sort of respect was just way too much for one cute and perky high school wizard apprentice to take all at once in silence.

"Yeah about that." I said drawing everyone's attention. "What if we could instead free those held?" I asked as I sensed Barter wander up behind us as well, keeping distant but standing in such a place as to observe for himself all that was said or done by our little gathering.

"Your skills as a wizard are capable of accomplishing this?" Ishmael asked me in awe. "None in Israel had any clue how to do so."

"No, I cannot unmake the watch or free the souls trapped inside." I said. "But I think that you and Heinrich can." I said holding forth the watch and pointing to the two pins that stood out from it. "I think if you hold it between your grasped hands and each of you pushes down on one of the pins then the souls within shall be freed. At least that is what I have come to believe from all I have learned."

"Can this be true?" Ishmael said with wonder. "All this time all we required was two people to do what you say?"

"No I think it must be two who had once been enemies as well." I said deciphering the watch poem in my mind.

"That is true, but I must inform you in fairness that to do so sacrifices the lives of the ones who perform this action." Mr. Leyland explained without entering our circle. "They are not merely captured though, their souls as you refer to them, shall be destroyed for all time."

"Then we must hurry Ishmael, before my life bleeds away completely." Heinrich said without hesitation and trying to reach for the watch but failing because he could no longer raise his arm. I noted that Ishmael pulled him away as well.

"No I cannot ask such a thing of you Heinrich." Ishmael shook his head. "You cannot be condemned to an even worse fate than those trapped within that time piece. You do not deserve such a thing, no one does, that price is too high to pay."

"It is my price to pay if I wish it Ishmael." Heinrich said. "And if I can leave this existence knowing that I have sent Magda on to heaven, not to mention the millions of others, how could I not willingly pay this? It is likely I would go to Hell for my sins anyway. You are merely providing me with a means to avoid an eternity of deserved punishment." Ishmael looked down at the man whose breath was now ragged. Even I could see the pulse beating in his neck was weakening and irregular since there was so little blood left to be pushed. "Please Ishmael…"

The old rabbi looked up at his family and they said silent goodbyes in a single glance. He only made one final request to them. "Use my name. Tell the Wiesenthal Center of what we did here this night." The family merely nodded at his final request and said nothing, maintaining a tearful but stoic guard around their patriarch.

I handed Ishmael the watch and he placed it firmly in his palm, his eyes lighting up with the feeling of all the souls and the power they provided still trapped within the watch. He reached his blood covered hand to grasp Heinrich's in a true grip of friendship and nodding to the dying man the two pushed down on the pins with their thumbs.

There was a barely audible sound of a spring unwinding, and the merest hint of a breeze that the others experienced as well and likely wrote off to nothing more than a random draft in the large open museum.

For Carlos and I, gifted with a wizard's sight even if we did not want to see it, we both observed a stream of souls, much like a flash of lighting, leaving the watch and disappearing into the night sky far above the ceiling of the museum. The power contained for more than sixty years was gone in an instant leaving the watch beautiful, but magically inert.

Gone also were Ishmael and Heinrich. Their bodies were not laying their dead. They were not even piles of ashes on the floor. They were merely no more as if they had never been here except for the memories that those who knew them would always remember. They had both come from opposing side and lived extraordinary, if troubled, lives. It seemed no surprise to me that they died together in the same way.

I picked the watch up from where it rested upon the ground and turned to hand it over to Barter. "Here is your watch as I promised you when you hired me." I said fulfilling my side of the contract we had made verbally.

He nodded at once to me and slipped the watch into his pocket and drew forth the four velvet bags of diamonds promised for quick action. "And here then is your payment as promised." He looked at me to see perhaps if I was going to open the bags and inspect them but I merely placed them to the side as if they were not of importance. "For that honor of trusting me let me at least help you with cleaning up." He smiled and with a wave of his hand Eric's body was gone. Eric's father's corpse however stayed where it had come to its final rest. I guess since Eric had the spark of immortality in it Barter felt some sort of obligation to not leave it lying around that he did not share for those who were merely human.

"I believe then that our business, at least our business at present, is concluded Ms. Carpenter." Barter said using my correct name instead of Harry's that he had all along. "I look forward to our next meeting when you turn…" He started to say and then disappeared teasingly without ever finishing his sentence. I wanted to deny his claim of any future encounter, but some part of me said that perhaps he knew what he was talking about. It's probably one of those pesky type of talents they give to near god-like beings.

We all stood in silence for a few minutes until finally I could not take it any longer and either had to say something or breakdown blubbering into tears. "I see you found the family Murphy." I said to Karrin who was still supporting Carlos over her shoulder.

"Yep your charm led me right to them." She said. "You think you might be able to tell me what is going on here? For example the guy dead over there from the gunshot wound. I am going to have to write up a report about in this morning and it will help me now to know if I have to account for your claim of self-defense before I start typing.

"No." I said. "The gun lying over there will have fingerprints on it matching a Mr. Eric Curtis Manuel who you met the other night. You can compare the prints to the ones he gave when he came in through immigration. They will match. The body is that of his father who also came through immigration. But do not spend too much time looking for Eric. That was his body Barter just took away."

"And what should I say about the golems and the dirt?" Murphy asked me with a hint of a smile since she knew that Ishmael had been responsible and that he was now gone forever too leaving her with an open and unexplained series of murders.

"Well you can make a pretty good circumstantial case that Eric must have had something to do with it because not only will you have eyewitness testimony from Ishmael's family linking him with the skinheads, or at least the last one of them, during their kidnapping but he will also just happened to take over the job of Jonathan Rothstein whose grave was the one mysteriously disturbed." I said. "Call it a Scooby-do mystery and say he was trying to make it look like Jonathan's ghost was responsible while in truth he was killing the others so that he would not have to share whatever he was after in the museum and had arranged Jonathan's suicide to get at."

Murphy looked at me skeptically. "You really think anyone will read that on a police report and believe it?"

"Probably not." I replied. "But it's not like there is any other more reasonable alternative. Do you think someone is going to come forward and say monsters made of mud were hunting down Nazis to prevent a sixty year old curse from taking place in Chicago?" I asked.

"I see your point." She admitted with a laugh and then shook her head in resignation. "Looks like I will be having another discussion with Internal Affairs over this one."

"Hey look at it this way." I said. "I have to try and explain all of this to Harry!" We both laughed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Axis and Allies**

**_Friday and Saturday _**

**_Chapter 23_**

I headed back to Harry's office after class on Friday. Murphy had offered to call the school and make an excuse for me being tardy if I decided I wanted to sleep in late, but since that excuse would only work with school and not cut any slack with mom I decided to buck it up and with the help of two spaced shots of Beast energy drink I made it through the day. I realized though that I had been a bit preoccupied with the events over the last week and had not done a proper job of reviewing the mail to ensure there were no late notice bills that needed attention as Harry had made me promise.

In the rush of events I had also forgotten that Ms. Brown, I did not want to think of her as Nerthus the ancient Pagan goddess anymore than I had to, had sent the promised photos over by runner to help me find her son. The large envelope slipped through the slot, one that I had casually thrown into the inbox of mail when Mr. Leland had come by to visit, again not thinking of him as Barter either, now sat on the center of the desk right in front of me where I had laid it as I stared at it.

I could not decide if I wanted to open the letter or not. I knew what it was supposed to contain and that therefore made me wary so I only slid my hands over the envelope in a moment of lip biting indecision; which is how I felt the lingering remains of a faint spell beneath my fingertips.

I closed my eyes and tried to get a 'feel' for it and realized that it was a subtle sensitive magic spell, not particularly powerful so not to be immediately recognized, but rather one that would slowly infect the intended victim, which was in this case meant to be me. It was also one so weak that now that I was focused on it I could resist through will alone. Having successfully peeked my interest I opened the manila envelope and shook out the contents onto the desk before me.

First on top was a handwritten letter from Ms. Brown thanking me for taking the case and complimenting me on what a responsible and talented young woman I was. Part of the spell I sensed was on this note. It was supposed to make me feel warm and welcoming to her affection. It would likely make me more trusting over time.

Along with the note was a photo of Eric that must have been taken at Glamour Shots or whatever the Brazilian equivalent was. He was posed like in a high school graduation photo and Eric wore just enough of a cocky smile to be enticing. And this enticement of course was what the second half of the spell was supposed to induce in me.

I give them credit. This attack was so subtle that I probably would not have even noticed it with how distracted I had been over the past few days, but of course that was what the pair had intended with it from the start. Would it have changed the outcome of events? I do not know. Perhaps I might have reacted just a little slower at a key phase or two in these events and my side would have lost.

I guess only God, the real one not those beings out beyond the Outer Gates, knows for sure, and maybe, just maybe, it was his subtle hand that had protected me and helped me through this week's challenges. I like to believe that was true. In fact I found that I had faith it really was the truth. And if God was listening to my thoughts at the moment perhaps it was a demonstration of enough faith to offer me a certain sword… huh? Divine response? Thunder in the distance? Anything? Alright, maybe not yet.

I put the picture and letter back in the envelope and held it up in my left hand. "Feuer." I said and both items burst into immediate magical flame and then I dropped them in Harry's currently empty round metal trashcan that sat next to the desk.

"I would never have thought of you as being sentimental Ms. Carpenter." An elderly voice coming from the chair that was empty a moment ago had me startled and nearly shoot up out of my seat. You would think after centuries The Merlin would get tired of these flashy shows of his power used only to make a point but no he obviously did not. And the hint of a smile he wore at my reaction just pissed me off all the more.

"Well that is fair." I said. "I try not to think of you at all." I said in response with an overblown smile of my own. This took away the hint of satisfaction that he wore. Point to the cute, perky, high school wizard apprentice!

"You are really picking up some of Dresden's worst qualities." He said disapprovingly.

"Yeah well you made him my teacher." I said. "But hey, look at it this way it allowed me to take care of that pesky Schertel plan that had been brewing for all these years without your notice." Okay I really was pushing it but what can I say. I knew the only reason he could be here was in relation to that so I might as well show him I could figure things out too.

"Indeed. That is why I have come." He looked around the office in obvious disgust. "But since this place needs a good cleaning, how about we take a walk, my treat?" Before I could agree or object he raised his right hand and snapped his fingers and suddenly I felt myself falling, all of three inches, until I was buoyed on a cushion of only air like a fine Lazy Boy chair. The Merlin was sitting next to me, slightly higher of course but looking out upon the changed landscape before us.

He allowed me a moment to take in the wonder of my location since it was nighttime where we were at. We sat, or floated reclined, at the top of a giant rock pillar, the tallest of five, made from granite sticking straight vertically out of the ground. Just below us appeared to be a well groomed and tended lake. Off in the distance I could just make out a gravel trail that wound away from our resting place, past the lake, and down the hill toward what might be a parking area in the distance.

"Are you familiar with our location?" The Merlin asked obviously testing me and giving me the final hint to confirm what I suspected.

"Yes, Externsteine." I said.

"I am glad to see you were gifted with at least basic intellect." He said not willing to offer me any further praise.

"Yes I am tying my own shoes and everything." I replied. "Being The Merlin and therefore likely having many more important things to attend to than giving me a tour of German Pagan worship sites I assume you have some point in this meeting. So why don't you just get to the issue you came to see me about."

He stared at me for a bit, probably because no one my age had dared to openly talk to him like this since, well probably since Harry was my age. "Do not pat yourself too much on the back for your deductive reasoning child." He said in a serious tone. "We are here for the very purpose I came for. I wanted to judge for myself your true character. I have read over your dealings contained in the report that Warden Ramirez provided of these Schertel events in which you played a minor…" He raised his hand as my protest of outrage bubbled to my lips. "…minor, but not insignificant role." Yeah his amended words did not do more than allow me to just barely bite my tongue and hold back a less appropriate response.

"Glad I could help." Yeah it took a lot to leave it at just that. I guess I was growing up just a bit.

He sat in silence looking at me like some creepy old guy sitting on his porch staring from across the street. Finally he spoke. "I presume you feel you deserve some sort of reward for this action of giving away all that power? Removing the Doom perhaps?"

"No." I said. "Any reward you would offer would only taint the action. I prefer to let it stand on its own as a judgment of my character." I said. Take that you old judgmental windbag!

He turned away from me and looked back out over the magnificent view offered at this site even at night. The stars were the brightest I had ever seen them, which is not surprising as Chicago is pretty well lit up at night. But even so I could still see why this place had been sacred to the Pagan over the centuries. I really did feel closer to the heavens at that time than I ever had before. We sat in silence for at least fifteen minutes before he spoke.

"You should know that a group of Wardens led by the Gatekeeper captured the remaining Red Shirts a few hours ago." The Merlin said. "They will not be making a third guest appearance in the future." That was wizard speak for saying they had been quickly and efficiently executed.

"I also understand that Israeli government officials have just learned about a certain Brazilian village that they had never seen on any map or satellite photo before. I would not be surprised if a group of Mossad tourists checks the place out in the next forty eight hours." He said as well.

I really had nothing to say in response, and I sensed that my silence at his information was slightly annoying to him so I kept it up and smiled deep inside myself the whole time. We instead sat there for another quarter hour without speaking to one another.

"I do not understand you Ms. Carpenter." The Merlin said quietly without looking at me. "And I do not like, and I certainly do not trust, those things that I do not understand." He said finally raising his hand and preparing to snap his fingers again. I could feel the magic of his spell building.

"It's easy." I quipped "I'm just like Harry, only younger and cuter." His response was merely the snap of his fingers and suddenly I was back in the office chair all alone once more. I have to admit, it really was a very cool spell though.

Damn it I was going to be late! And if that was not bad enough, now I have another thing to add to my confession tomorrow. Might as well call off service because Father Forthill and I will be spending a lot of time together it seems.

I heard Harry's door rattle and could not remember if I had left it open for Murphy as I had intended to or not. I raced out quickly from the bedroom to find Harry standing just inside the door looking at me.

"Hi Harry." I said with an honest and wide smile. He had a look of confusion on his face like he had not expected to see me perhaps. "Glad to see you are back. Boy have I got a few things to tell you. But not right now I am sort of in a rush." I said looking every bit as frantic as I felt.

"Wait a minute." He said looking at me and making me stop in my tracks. "What is that?"

"What?"

"What you are wearing?"

"It's called a Gi Harry." I said with a smile. "Certainly you saw them on a Bruce Lee film or something somewhere."

"I know what it is." He said. "Why are you wearing it?"

"Oh Hell I forgot my belt." And now I can add another blasphemy to the list too. I raced back into the bedroom and found it still lying on the bed where I had left it.

"What is going on Molly?" He called.

I heard a knock at the door and that probably stopped any further questions from Harry at that point. If I had any clue how the correct way to tie this thing was I might have been faster, but hey it was still new and I was just an apprentice…again.

"Hey Harry your home." I heard Murphy's voice filled with genuine friendship and warmth, perhaps even a little more. I guess she was not so bad for him after all if that is the type he was into.

"Just got home. At least I think this is my home. Still trying to figure that out." Harry replied and then seemed to realize things were even weirder. "What are you doing here?"

"Just dropping off a check from the city." She replied.

"A check?" Harry said. "I have not done any consulting in a while. What is this for?"

"I did not say it was for you." She replied perfectly times just as I walked out to see the confused look on Harry's face. Murphy walked up to me and handed it over. "Three thousand to cover six days of work Molly. Thanks for all your help." She said happily.

"Help? What Help?" Harry asked.

"Not a problem Karrin." I said. "Did you have any trouble with Internal Affairs?"

"Not a one." She said. "It seems the mayor received a few big checks for his reelection coffers from a few of our more notable Jewish community members who happened to ask if that wonderful Sergeant Murphy will be testing for Lieutenant anytime soon."

"Really?" I said. "That is so cool!"

"Yeah, don't hold your breath." She said. "The police chief is not my biggest fan so it likely will not happen. However, it was enough to keep IA off my back in this case so I figure I can chalk that one up as a victory. Plus hell we solved the case right?

"That we did."

"Case?" Harry said. "What case?"

"So I see you are dressed." She noted my uniform and adjusted my belt for me. "You need anything else?"

"No I'm ready." I said.

"Wait a minute." Harry said. "Somebody is going to explain just what is going on." It really was a good authoritative sounding speech if only the phone had not decided to ring at just that moment. "And you will start right after I answer this call." He picked up the receiver.

"Harry Dresden." Yes, the real one, actually answered the phone. "Oh hello Carlos." He said.

I looked at Murphy who winked at me and ushered me out through the still open door. "See you later Harry. Girls' night out and all that." She laughed as she pulled the door closed.

"Hold on!" I heard him call to us at the door closed. "No not you Carlos. What? No Mister is not Egyptian. Where did you ever get an idea like that?"

"Harry seems stressed!" Murphy said.

"Yeah I saw that too." I replied.

"Maybe he should take some time off and get out of town on a vacation." She teased me.

"Sure I guess I could offer to take care of things around here for him."

"I'm sure you would do just fine." Murphy said.


End file.
